Avarice
by Cyanide and Insomnia
Summary: Avarice means greed. In this case, the greed of one who will stop at nothing to gain the power of the Irken Empire.. even if the rest of the known universe has to suffer for it.
1. Frightmares

Chapter One: Frightmares

* * *

He was lost.

And it was dark.

The "he" was a newly stationed technician who had been sent to gather snacks for his Tallest. We'll call him Rig. The "it" was the underbelly of the Massive, a confusing mess of corridors he'd never known existed - hell, probably half the crew above didn't even know existed. It wasn't necessarily _dark_, insomuch as dimly lit by rather old fluorescent lights, which flashed on and off as he walked through yet another long passageway.

If he knew this would be a fucking maze, he would have just taken the consequences for disobeying his Tallest. Floating through space after being cast out of an airlock by his leaders would have to be better than traversing the underbelly with a huge bag of snacks clutched to his chest.

"Why the hell did they put a concession stand down here, anyway?" He asked aloud. His voice sounded alien to his antennae, echoing in the dark hall. A bizarre feeling was forming in his squeedilyspooch, and he wasn't about to name it, as he had a sneaking suspicion its name would be "fear". Irkens fear nothing. Smeets are taught not to fear anything shortly after beginning life. There was no reason he should be scared now. It wasn't like there were monsters kept in the underbelly of the Massive - they'd probably escape and eat the Tallest, if there were.

Or stupid newbie technicians who couldn't find their way back to the bridge.

At the thought he shuddered despite himself, pulling the snack-bag a little closer to his chest. _There are no monsters_, he thought fiercely at his squeedlyspooch, which still felt like it was constricting itself in a fearful little knot, _there's no reason to be afraid. _This eventually became a little mantra circling around in his head, although the knot in his 'spooch remained obstinately wound.

One row of the fluorescent lights flashed off and remained off, leaving the right side completely dark. The shadows looked almost tangible, like they'd reach out and grab him at any moment...the lights on the left shut down then, the hall now a little yellow pathway with those horrible almost-living shadows on either side. Not wanting to be stuck in the hall in the dark, he walked a little faster until he came to a passage that had all three sides dimly lit. Behind him, it went completely dark, and it looked a little like that part of the underbelly had just disappeared, devoured by those thick, hungry shadows...

There he went again. Letting his imagination get the better of him. Irkens weren't supposed to be that imaginative, and he now knew why.

Imaginative or not, he was beginning to detect a soft clanging sound above.. like something crawling noisily in the pipes. But when he stopped to listen to it (maybe define it better, as his mind was calling it "the phantom crawly noise", which made him even more uneasy), it stopped. He started walking again, and it started up again. Experimentally, he stopped once again, and, whaddya know - it stopped too.

_There are no monsters, Rig, there's no reason to be afraid._

Clank-clank-clank.

_No monsters, no monsters - it's all in your head. Your too-imaginative head. All in your head._

A new sound joined it, and then replaced it: the soft thud-scratching of something's claws on the wall. Something walking on the wall.

"It's all in your head," He whispered to himself, completely unconvincing, eyeing the shadows on the wall, near the ceiling. "All in your head. There's nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear, just your imagination acting up, that's right--"

He turned a corner and both sounds in tandem returned, loud enough to make him wince.

They sounded close.

CLANK-CLANK-CLANK; THUD-SKIFF-THUD-SKIFF-SCRIIIIIIiiiitch..

His antennae pressed close to his head, and he pulled the bag even closer to his chest, half-crushing the snacks inside. They would probably be furious at him for damaging them - probably send him back for more. The knot in his squeedlyspooch constricted further, almost painfully, at this thought. He couldn't come back here. He wasn't even out of here. He could still hear the whatever-it-was--

CLANK-CLANK-SCRITCH-THUD-THUD-SCRITCH-THUD.

A soft yelp escaped his lips - the sound was so close it felt like it_ was_ all in his head, although he doubted his imagination would want to destroy his hearing.

That meant the whatever-it-was actually _was_ following him, _did_ exist, and probably _was_ some kind of monster.

He'd started to think it was a prankster Irken, maybe even one of his Tallest (you never know - they got bored easy), following along and scaring him like this, but after the latest bout of sound the thought evaporated - it didn't sound Irken. Not at all. The scritching could have come from someone's spider legs, but that thudding.. it was too heavy, too--

THUMP.

It wasn't on the wall anymore.

It was on the floor.

And he could hear its footfalls on the tile. A slow, deliberate clicking.

Not running.

Trotting leisurely after its prey.

He himself was half-jogging now, snack-bag crushed to his chest with enough force to have the top fall over his arm and a donut fall to the floor with a squishy thud, his heart trying hard to drown out the phantom clicky noise--

--so close, this noise, too close, and was that breathing he heard as well?--

by pounding in his antennae, a sound even more horrible than the others heard before it, because it meant he was afraid, fucking afraid, paralytically afraid. He shook his head to clear it out, a few droplets of sweat falling out of sight into the surrounding shadows, splattering sightlessly on the wall they concealed.

_It doesn't exist_, he thought weakly, _it's all in my head, and if it's in my head, it can't hurt me, can't rend me limb from limb--_

--his labored breathing now joining that horrible pounding of his heart, driving into his antennae, not nearly enough to block out the noise--

_All in my head, all in my head, I'm just running from it because I _think_it's something out to get me, but it's just my over-active imagination, an imagination Irkens aren't even supposed to have but I have it anyway, because I'm probably a damn Defective, imagine that--_

All thought stopped, though the sounds continued.

There wasn't an open stretch of hallway before him now. Just one wall.

Dead end.

A combination of fear, desolation, and just plain frustration caused him to cry out and kick that damn wall, the single wall impeding him from escaping whatever the hell it was chasing him down. Something in his foot snapped painfully and he bit his lip against the pain, turning around with his back to the wall. He was still gripping the snack-bag like his life depended on it, and he supposed that if push came to shove, he could throw it at the thing.

Before him, nothing but darkness. A fluorescent light overhead cast the only illumination of this part of the area - a spotlight shining down on his head. Stupid lights. Stupid darkness. Stupid shadows.. watching them was curiously hypnotizing, as though they were _moving_, closing in and pressing down on him. Maybe he was just giving a persona to his fear, which was now so deep it paralyzed him, even as he hated it and attempted to move against it - the last movement it allowed was turning around to face his impending death, for part of his mind was sure this was going to end up in death--

Something in the center of them moved, and he watched it instead.

This was it. That had to be his pursuer.

He found he wasn't mad anymore.

He was scared as hell.

And it wasn't all in his head.

The last light flickered off, and the bag of snacks fell to the floor--

--_Sorry, my Tallest, but you're going to have to get your snacks elsewhere--_

The entire ship filled with his terrified scream.. and the stifling silence that followed after.

* * *

Tallest Red was not accustomed to hearing loud screams during a nap.

In fact, he wasn't accustomed to hearing anyone scream at any time. The Massive just wasn't a place in which one screams one's fool head off.

He'd been shamelessly napping in one of the chairs on the bridge, too lazy to do it in his own room, leaving Purple to contend with any business their advisors might fork at them. Luckily for the co-leader, there hadn't been, and he had ordered a newly stationed technician - Rip or something - to get some snacks for himself and Red. The other had obeyed as overenthusiastically as all newbies do...

But that was an hour ago.

And that scream..

Well, whoever the poor bastard was, he was probably dead by now, and so Red really didn't care. He didn't care if the bastard had lived, actually.

"Took you long enough," Purple muttered darkly.

Red went to protest, but then he heard the other add disappointedly, "And you don't have our snacks."

Whatsisface must have returned, then.

"My apologies, my Tallest," Rig said sheepishly, giving a half-hearted salute. Then he looked up, and Red, now watching through a slightly cracked open eye, noticed he looked rather spooked. "But there's something you ought to see."

"Is it urgent?" Purple said, sounding like _he_ just woke up from a nap.

"Extremely."

"I'll go," The crimson-eyed Tallest offered, startling the two slightly - they'd obviously thought he was still sleeping when Rip approached. Rig. Ritz. Whatever. Can't be expected to remember every single technician's name that passes beneath his line of sight, after all. "Probably's somethin' stupid anyway." The last statement had the tail end of his nap imprinted on it, but they didn't seem to notice.

"Be careful," Purple stated quietly.

Red stared curiously at him, but the other offered no explanation for the warning, just waved him away like he was as insignificant as the technician standing beside him. Damned pompous idiot. They were _co_-leaders, and maybe even friends; that kind of holier-than-thou treatment was completely uncalled for.

Then said technician scampered out of the room, and he hovered after him.

Eventually whatsisface was leading him through the underbelly of the ship, and a rather unused portion at that - or _over_used. The lights were dim, the walls that weren't darkened by shadows filthy. He made a mental note to get a cleaner or two down here to get rid of that. There would be no filthy walls on _his _ship.

He then realized he was hovering in those gross, dark halls alone. Whatsisface had disappeared.

"Damn coward," He growled at the shadows. "Leaving me in this shithole."

Well, perhaps shithole was a bit too harsh a term, but he wanted to resume his nap on the bridge, so anywhere else was a shithole. And if he didn't find anything urgently interesting soon, he'd have to hunt down that stupid lily-livered technician and rip his fool head off - or just pull his squeedilyspooch out through his eyesockets. Throwing him out an airlock was too tame - that was how _Purple_ liked to punish them. This one needed a nice little death for disturbing his Tallest's sleep mode and then leaving him in the dank intestinal tract of the Mass--

Something ahead caught his eye.

It looked suspiciously like a torn-up bag (a snack-bag, go figure). Around it were things that looked like they used to be snacks.

"Half-eaten snacks?" He wondered aloud, blinking. Did whatsisface also eat the snacks he was supposed to get for them? Because that would mean a head-ripping or 'spooch-pulling wouldn't do for this one..

He toed one of the half-eaten things with distaste, then winced as something lukewarm dropped on his head. Instinctively he moved back, and only then noticed that the snack-bag and half-eaten snacks were laying in a pool of a dark crimson liquid, something he rather hoped wasn't blood. If it was blood, something was bleeding, and if something was bleeding, something caused that bleeding, and that something could still be here..

Drip.

A realization occurred to him: why didn't he just assume that someone hurt themselves?

He wasn't the type to believe in bogeymen and monsters in the closet - that was Purple's job. To be the scaredy one. To jump when you whisper "boo". So why did he all of a sudden think it was something - some _monster_- creeping through these nasty hallways that made that blood?

Drip.

Dammit.

Drip.

That blood better belong to someone's damn paper cut.

Drip.

He finally stopped watching the blood and looked up, looking for the source.

He.. didn't expect what he saw.

It was a body. A honest-to-dead body. It looked like it had been a technician once - except for the bloody, gnarled nub where its head should have been. If he squinted, he could see the vague impression of teeth in the torn flesh, what wasn't eclipsed by blood. The headless corpse was stuck to the ceiling by several thick bands of darkish slimy-looking goo, goo you usually see coming out of a snail's ass.

Drip.

He was still stuck on the fact that he could see teeth-marks. That meant something _bit off its fucking head. _

It takes a lot of force to sever a spine, and it looked like whatever it was did it with the ease of cutting butter.

And the worse part was that _it could still be here somewhere._

"Alright," He said, addressing the darkness once again - he'd completely forgotten about Rig (who, unbeknownst to him, was the body above his head), "Whatever the hell you are, show yourself. While I'm not in the mood to have anything creeping around in my ship period, I'll be even more pissed if I don't even know what hell is doing the creeping."

Something in the darkness chuckled, probably at his overuse of expletives.

But it was progress, at least.

Just not enough.

Something moved to his left. He turned, getting a laser gun from his PAK. Now his order could be arranged as "show yourself and be blasted to pieces, you stupid motherfucker". The whatever-it-was chuckled again, but the sound was different. As though it were laughing at some blind idiocy being displayed.. or it knew something he didn't. Either way, its ass had a date with his gun.

_Very nice, _something said in his mind, _except for the fact that you don't even know what you'd be blasting._

"Don't play mind games with me! Get the fuck out of that darkness or I'll _make _you come out!"

_You're so _demanding_... too bad such fire will have to go to waste.._

There was a rather sensual tone to the first statement, and a regretful yet ominous one to the second. He growled, leveling his gun at the shadows to the left, waiting with bated breath to see what it would be that would have a neat little laser-hole in its forehead.

All he got to see was a pair of white lights that might have been eyes... and then _everything_ went dark.

* * *

Red had been gone for far too long, Purple decided; and, as usual, he couldn't help but worry about the bastard.

After all, something - or some_one_- had screamed earlier, and he had also thought "some poor fucker's dead", but with more concern than his friend. It set him on the track of mind Red had started on when he discovered the blood: that kind of scream is usually illicited by something scaring something else shitless, and the only thing that came to mind that delt such gravity of shitlessness was some kind of large beast, monster, or demon. Or the screamer's worst fear. But he thought _monster_ and that word stuck.

He'd warned Red about it, as vaguely as possible (for the other didn't like to hear Purple's complaints, fears, or other nonsense that seemed weak), but, as usual, he hadn't listened. While part of him did hope Red was suffering for ignoring that warning, the rest just hoped he hadn't gone the way of the screamer.

Which was why he was now hovering back and forth in front of their chairs, nervously wringing his fingers without even noticing he was doing it, muttering things to himself that voiced what he imagined what could have happened to Red. The technicians looked up time to time to see if the violet-eyed Tallest had finally stopped that (it was worrying them, too), but, noticing its being continued, sighed and went back to their work.

One of the advisors approached him.

"It's probably nothing," He said, antennae lowered humbly and a bit nervously. "He'll be back."

"You're right, it's probably something stupid," Purple said distractedly. "He probably just got lost, that's all." Then he laughed at the idea of Red hovering around aimlessly in the bowels of the ship.. but it was an empty laugh, because at the same time his overconcerned mind generated the image of Red being dead down there because he couldn't find his way back and starved to death. He could almost hear the flies landing on his lifeless form. He shuddered, and hovered about a little faster.

The advisor frowned, but left him alone. There was just no getting to him.

Luckily for all of them, Purple's wait was over: Red, sans Rig, came hovering in.

"Soo... what was it?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Red snorted and resumed his original place - his chair. The other was surprised he didn't jump back into sleep mode.

"Somethin' stupid." Came the reply.

* * *

Whee - my first IZ epic finally gets its ass on FF, and its first chapter is 9 pages. Not bad, ne?

DS felt sorry for Rig. That's good. Means I have a future in horror/suspense writing.

Don't ask me where the name of the chapter came from.

R&R, bitches.


	2. Nervous

Chapter Two: Nervous

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Purple was not stupid.

A little slow on the uptake at times, and scatterbrained at others, but not stupid.

Because he wasn't stupid, he wasn't fooled.

The creature that returned from the underbelly of the ship wasn't Red.

It started out as a mere "wrong" feeling in the base of his squeedilyspooch, a feeling that just wouldn't go away - no amount of snacking, sleeping, or anything else would abate it. It just sat there, obstinate. And he knew instinctively that it had something to do with his friend.

Then Red had started to act like he had a perpetual hangover, treating the entire ship like a new level of shit - even though the last Drink-'Til-Ya-Drop Tuesday was at least a month ago. He doubted Red would booze without him - if one was to go down drunk, the other one had to come with, and the empire would just have to deal with a pair of intoxicated leaders. It was set in stone, like who ate what and who said what curse words on a regular basis.

That brought him to another clue: the other had been using _his _allotted curse word: "fuck". A lot.

Originally, Red said every other expletive _except_ fuck, as agreed one rather slow day without booze or business. Now he was using them all.

Intuition, hangover, fuck - it all added up.

That couldn't be Red.

Although it was a damn good actor.

Here we come back to that "not stupid" point. He realized that if the impostor knew he knew about it, it would probably become aggressive, getting rid of him as well - and Red would never resurface. He refused to think this.. whatever-it-was had killed him, but it wasn't impossible. So, because of that, he was going to pretend like its ruse had fooled him, at least until he found out where the impostor had hidden his friend.. or his _body_.

All he really had to do was play stupid a little more, and try not to get nervous. They can smell fear from a mile away, stuff like that... and, while this is a very pressing matter, it wasn't like the impostor was going to wipe out their race if he plays badly, right? This doesn't involve the _entire_ empire or anything... does it?

_Dammit, now I'm nervous._

"Did you say something?" Red asked, jolting him back into reality. The other was where he usually ended up after that day - Red's chair, lounging about with a half-drugged look on his face. This time he had a half-empty bottle of booze. Good. The impostor would be less of a threat drunk as a skunk. If he didn't think he'd start boozehounding with him, he'd make sure he stayed drunk.

"Err.. no?"

_Of course not, you stupid, crazed, friend-killing son of a bitch impostor-face!_

A weird look crossed the other's face for a moment, then it passed and he took another swig of booze.

"Could have sworn I heard something..." He muttered to himself.

"Maybe you're going crazy?" Purple suggested brightly.

"Too much damn beer, I think." With a snort, he threw the bottle, still half-full, at some random technician. It beaned the guy in the head and made him fall backwards out of his seat. Red laughed. "Two points!"

If Purple hadn't begun to suspect his identity by now, he would have then. That was definitely not a Red-like laugh. It sounded... evil. Sent a chill up his spine. _My rotten luck..._he thought, watching his supposed co-ruler, _I get stuck with a sadist. Well, Red was a sadist too, but that sounded like an 'I kick smeets for shits and giggles' kind of sadistic--_

His thought cut short as he noticed something about the other. He looked as though he were listening patiently to something, even though none of the advisors were near him, and no one had said a word since their miniature conversation. What else was there to listen to? And why did he look annoyed now, like whatever he was listening to sounded bad?

"I'm going to sleep now, bother me and die." Red growled as he extracted himself from the chair. That's also what "Red" kept doing - sleeping. Damned impostor had jet lag, it looks like. Boozing and sleeping. "If you've got any business, give it to Pur." Then he hovered out of the room. Hearing the nickname made Purple a little sicker than he was two minutes ago.

Business. That was the worst part about this. Since that day, the workload had doubled. Normally that would be because it was just one Tallest dealing with it, but it had actually increased. He was getting news every day.

The news?

People were going missing. Mostly just janitorial and service drones, but a few technicians had also disappeared - and recently, one advisor. That's when you have to start thinking twice about that 'getting lost' theory you coughed up in two seconds. Advisors are supposed to stay close to the Tallest. That's what they do. So when one goes missing...

He had also found a bit of a coincidence - all the disappearances, according to one of the other advisors, happened at around the same time "Red" went to sleep. He highly doubted the impostor would stoop as low as to kidnap (or kill) a few lower-class Irkens, but he wasn't about to undersestimate him. Maybe he was enslaving them. Maybe he was throwing them out in space for shits and giggles. He could see him watching their heads explode because he'd taken their PAKs off so they couldn't use that thing that made anything breathable. Maybe... Purple forced himself to stop thinking. He felt scared enough without speculating about the fates of some missing Irkens.

But that was still too much of a coincidence to ignore.

"Crim," He said suddenly, glancing meaningfully toward one of the advisors. He could have always gotten technician or a body guard (which he noticed were avoiding Red like the plague) to do this, but it was too late to reconsider now. "I need you to keep an eye on Red." There was a slight pause between "on" and "Red" as Purple struggled to call him that, but the other didn't seem to notice.

A momentary pause and a rather cold scrutiny, then he just shrugged and grunted a "Yes, my Tallest", deciding to play along with whatever the hell was going through their leader's mind. It would save them all the trouble that would arise if Purple, thwarted, went to go watch 'Red' himself. He stood and sauntered out of the room without another word.

"You," Looking toward another. "I'm going to watch him watch Red. Okay?"

The other one stared at him for a moment.

"Why can't you have one of us do it, My Tallest? You've heard about the disappearances... it would be most grievous if you get taken too."

"That's exactly why I'm having that guy watch Red," Purple said, beaming like a three-year-old. "and I'm going to watch _him_ to see what happens!"

She opened her mouth to say something else, but, like Crim, decided that it was easier just to let him get on with his crazed plans instead of arguing with him, muttering a quiet 'be careful' and turning her attention back to whatever she was doing before.

Sure, this might be stupid, but he wanted to test his suspicions. Yes, he would probably lose another advisor, but it was for the sake of research. Hopefully. Maybe he could be wrong and they really were getting lost. Never know until you try. And he was trying now.

He turned his hoverbelts on silent mode and hovered out the way Crim had gone, toward Red's room. He himself had been this way almost a thousand times, but now it felt alien to him. Maybe it was because some foreign creature had been going through this same path for the past few days, and its karma or whatever rubbed off on the walls. Maybe he was just paranoid.

When he got close to the room, his antennae picked up on something. A weird crunching sound. And then some splats. And then some more crunching. And another splat. The images the sounds created in his head were so vivid, he had to bite back a sound of distress, antennae flattened to his head.

There. Something over there.

It was a silhouette of something hunched over something else...

A horribly familiar red eye flashed in his direction just as he was about to get closer, the thing freezing and just staring at him...

He found he couldn't move. Hell, almost couldn't breathe. It felt like something's claws were constricting around his heart, his 'spooch, his throat, his head—squeezing, crushing—

His vision began to tunnel, breaths coming out in choked wheezes, and then, horribly enough, not at all, heartbeat struggling to keep going while those invisible claws kept ruthlessly squeezing, the warmth of blood or bile crawling into his mouth and trickling down his chin—

It was trying to kill him.. and it was doing it just by _staring_!

Then, as he made this observation, it suddenly took off, whatever it had been hunched over (he assumed it was Crim, or his corpse at least) gripped in wherever its mouth was, darting up the wall like some kind of freakish lizard. As it wasn't staring at him anymore, he could move, if a little shakily, and so he fumbled out a small gun – purely for protection, and not at all made for something like THIS – and blindly shot at it. The hall lit up just a little with the laser, making both himself and the creature hiss in pain, although the creature's sounded more like he'd hit it, and a splatter of blood falling to the floor confirmed it. Or maybe that was Crim's blood...

Before he could get a second shot into it, it vanished into the shadows. Just disappeared. Not before a second wave of that gut-wrenching, invisible claw pain tore through him, thankfully shorter this time.

Instead of waiting for it to come back, he put away the gun and wiped the blood from his chin, then quickly hovered back to the bridge, closing the hatch door behind him with a loud bang. The other Irkens looked up, curious, and then a bit startled at the look on their ruler's face.

He looked exactly how a person who just saw what looked like his friend chowing down on one of his advisors, then nearly got killed with alien mindpowers, then nearly got killed again should look.

Scared as shit.

"My Tallest?" The other advisor he had spoken to piped up.

He remained silent for the moment, hovering over to his chair and plopping in it, eyes still wide from what he had seen. What he'd felt. Panting a bit to get some oxygen back into him.

"I.. I know what's been taking people..." He breathed, voice shaky.

They didn't have much time to react to this, as the sound of the hatch door wooshing back open met all their antennae, and a certain Tallest was standing there. He looked pissed. Pissed and hurt, like a wounded wild animal with about as much venom in his eyes, and a hand was gripping his shoulder. Underneath the gauntlet Purple could just make out the telltale color of blood...

Random voices kept asking, "Are you okay, sir?" and pointing out "You're bleeding!", all of which he ignored. He hovered down to the ones who were actually controlling the ship, and said in a strangely calm voice, "Head for these coordinates." And punched in a few numbers with his free hand. The one he was talking to let out a soft gasp.

"But, sir-- there's a wormhole there!"

A dark grin appeared on his face now, making Purple wish he'd just kept to snarling. He looked insane now. Hell, he probably was.

"Exactly."

_Oh, shit._

* * *

LAWL ACTION SCENE! I fixed it 'cause it needed moar drama, yse.

It's still only 5 pages.

And FF.N apparently doesn't like hyphens outside of the actual writing.


	3. Jelly

Chapter 3: Jelly

* * *

There was a few moments of silence, the kind of silence that feels like it was slowly strangling you unless you broke it. Purple cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, then finally found his voice again. It came out a timid squeak.

"E-Exactly?" As in, 'why the hell are you flying us near a wormhole?'

Although there was this horrible feeling forming in the violet-eyed leader's squeedlyspooch that proclaimed he probably already knew 'Red's reasoning...

The silence descended again. Red hovered back to the platform with a smug look on his face, arms behind his back, looking all proper, no longer bothering to cover his wound, just letting the blood trickle down his chestplate. Despite Purple's unconscious flinch away from him as he approached, he plopped back into 'his' chair. He slumped back, assuming what one might call a beer drinker's slouch, but the other was still on edge, and this creature not answering him was making him even more nervous.

"You'll see," He said after a while, and even after Purple prompted again, he remained silent. Waiting... watching... like a predator...

Around them, the Massive suddenly bucked violently, throwing quite a few technicians around, and through one of the window panels you could see a hole, colors swarming around its mouth - but it was still a hole, and looked rather big from here. The ship shuddered again as the hole tried to pull it toward it, but they pushed it back, waiting with front jets on for Red's order. He'd told them to come here, and thus, he's the one they'd listen to about it. He ignored them, though, hovering to his feet and toward Purple, stopping only two inches away from him.

"I've had enough."

"Pardon?"

"Enough of you." Gripping the other's arm with his fingers as he hovered over to one of the airlocks. Fancy that. He's going to get the same treatment he's threatened on a few people and done to one other. Of course he struggled, but his captor's grip remained unbroken. The airlock was still closed, however, as the impostor wanted a few more words out first, whirling on him with the arm still in hand so that their faces almost touched.

"You thought I couldn't hear you? You thought I didn't know? You thought I didn't _see_?" He snarled, blood-spattered claws tightening their grip on Purple's arm to the point where he thought they'd snap the bone inside. "Oh, I'd have let you get on with your stupid whining and your stupid thinking if not for THIS-" Pointing to his wounded shoulder, which the other noticed wasn't bleeding anymore. "A blatant fucking ATTACK!"

"Well, I, ah..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Sorry?"

The impostor went on, if a bit more heated than before. "You know too much, my stupid, useless friend. You've seen too much, learned too much - and I have not the time nor patience to wipe your stupid, useless brain."

"So you're going to chunk me into a wormhole and call it done." He surprised himself with the bravado in this statement.

"No, I'm going to chunk you into a wormhole that most likely leads to a planet that will kill you while I can't. Then I'm going to sit back and watch you die, and THEN I'm going to call it done."

Whatever bravado Purple had had, it was gone now.

"...oh."

The airlock swung open, and the vacuum of space attempted to suck them both out. Not that far off, the wormhole sat waiting like a hungry predator itself.

"Farewell, goodbye, au revoir, adieu, ciao, et cetera. Die slow, you stupid bastard. Die slow."

With that said, he grabbed Purple's waist, and chunked him into the wormhole, just like he'd said. Still in shock, he couldn't react..

Purple noticed his eyes turning black...

..then the ship was gone and he was getting sucked down the hole.

He'd had time to think _Dammit, there go the curly fries _before _everything _went black...

* * *

A job well done, she thought. Despite the slight aching in her shoulder, a job well done indeed.

The useful one was dead, garbage fodder, and the use_less_ one.. well, he was currently spiraling down a wormhole to his doom.

Unfortunately, she couldn't hold up her promise of watching him die - that would take far too long.

The impostor hovered back to the bridge. Being as 'he' was now Purpleless, quite a bit of attention was focused on him. The ones who were still looking off paid attention when their supposed leader bawled out a string they thought wouldn't be directed at them. And in a female voice, no less!

"Attention scumbags!"

They looked up, confused.

As they watched, 'Red''s now-black eyes grew long, wicked lashes, his antennae curled, his face turned a sicker shade of green, his uniform's colors dancing about like a lava lamp on speed. The parts that were red turned black, the parts that were black turned white except the shoulderguards and neckpiece, which were dark gray, and the white parts turned black also. The gauntlets changed from having a stripe a gauntlet (black on white) to two stripes a gauntlet (white on black).

Her cosmetic transformation over with, she immediately appeared to strike a rather intimidating pose, her mind already reaching out to quell any REAL protest. To them... this would be a completely normal takeover...

"I am your new leader."

A murmur across the untouched Irkens, higher ranked ones like the advisors and bodyguards, spread like wildfire.

"Is there anyone tall enough to do so still here, hm? Let him stand up and defy me."

Nothing.

"Good. Set a course for Irk, as to make it official."

"But, sir, ma'am-"

"Yes?" Her glance toward this advisor nearly stopped his heart, it was so cold.

"W-what about... Tallests Red and Purple?"

"They're dead." She said simply.

They started talking again.

"Dead, like some people might be if they don't stop talking."

Silence fell over the ship once again. She smirked and settled into Red's chair, like she had been for the past week. But now it was her chair. And her booze, she realized, noticing the bottle still sitting at its side. She let out a bark of laughter and raised it above her head. "A toast!" She crowed, not expecting her new minions to add anything. "To a new regime!"

One of the technicians suddenly whispered, "To Tallest Black." Then covered his mouth like he'd said something dirty.

But that was okay. He had only said it by mental suggestion, after all.

"Right! To me!" She laughed again, and took a good swig, draining the bottle. Then she threw it at the Irken who had been forced to speak, laughing madly as it beaned him in the head with a loud, sick crack, breaking the bottle and causing him to fall back and hit his head on his chair, then slump to the floor. He didn't move after that, and a thick line of blood started flowing out of where the bottle hit him.

"To me!"

* * *

_Four score and thirty seconds ago... god DAMN my head hurts.. is that blood? No, no, the oil's just leaking out of the gaskets in my brain, that's all.. don't get worried, get glad.. or something.. I don't give a ass rats anyway... black-eyed peas.. there goes some more brain-oil.. wonder why everything stinks like the Massive's ass.. huh.. the Massive has an ass? It does now, 'cause I said so, and I'm a Tallest - if I said pigs flew, they'd fly, even if the jelly doesn't stick to the right side of the squid, they'd fly.. squid-jelly.. why the fuck is that so funny? Stop laughing, you voices! Stoppit! The Tallest of the Squid-beans commands you! Squid-beans! Assemble! ... fuck... my squidly powers aren't as good as the old sammich said so... SQUIDS! WHY HAVE YOU BETRAYED - oh look! Fairies! C'mere likkle fairies, I want to roast your sauce! Sawwwwwwwwwwwwse... I smell food... do worms have food? Issa wormhole, there should be worms, and they should give me food - and a crown! Then I won't be Squid-Tallest, I'll be WORM-Tallest! Genius! My face feels like it got roasted in fairysawse... hehehehehe... sawse.. the worm-squid-bean-banana-monkey Tallest desires more SAWSE!_

Something moved by his right arm, and he swiped at it, thinking it was a mole person bent on taking his newfound crown. The something jumped back with a clank, then giggled, and then there was a sharp pain in his arm, kinda like something biting him...

The lights snapped on. The biting thing held on. He attempted to shove his face into something dark, and when he did, it smelled metallic and greasy, like part of a ship. The back part of a ship. A ship's ass. He giggled. It sounded drunk. Something else was approaching, he could hear its feet. He swung the arm with the biting thing at it, ending up smacking himself in the face with it. This forced him to open his eyes, and after they almost went blind with the light, he noticed that the something near his face had a pair of teal eyes and a stupid grin on its face around his arm.

"GIR!" A voice cried, and the something else turned out to be an Irken. If his brain didn't feel like mush, he would have recognized its little body and big red eyes. As it was, he just stared as it ripped the biting robot thing off his arm, motivating his throat to whimper in pain, a thin line of blood appearing where the robot-thing's teeth had been.

Then the Irken shoved his face into Purple's. He was almost sure he knew this tiny freak, but the surety disappeared when he got the ECU.

"My Tallest?" The Irken asked, blinking his big red eyes. They were like... the jelly center of a jelly donut. He giggled again, reaching for the jelly-eyes, forcing their owner to jerk back.

"Jeeeellyyy..." He said in a childish tone, giggling again. The other Irken stared at him like he was stupid. He probably was, what with that intense pain in his head and the mushy feeling in his brain. "Come back here, jelly-eyes.. I'm hungry..." The 'you're stupid' look turned into an alarmed one.

"My Tallest, there appears to be something wrong with your head."

Purple giggled again. "Dain bramage..."

"Err.. right." The Irken moved out of his range of sight, and only then did he notice that there was a bunch of purple metal surrounding him. That metal had good taste, he reasoned. But where was Jelly-eyes going? He attempted to sit up so he'd see, but the pain that shot through his body forced him back into the metal-nest, smothering a cry of pain.

"Here's the problem." Jelly-eyes' voice told him matter-of-factly. "Part of the ship is jammed into your PAK."

"Jelly?"

"And it's stopping your normal healing processes.. your mental processes too, it seems."

Something shifted behind him, and more pain ran up his spine, little red dots blooming in front of his eyes like flowers. This time he was unable to smother the pained cry that rose up out of his throat, and at its sound the shifting thing hesitated. But only for a second, as it started shifting again, and then he felt something get loose.. and with a bit more pain, a weight lifted from his back.

"There. That should restore all the proper processes..." The voice trailed off as Jelly-eyes returned to the front. He was watching... watching for what? Then Purple noticed some movement to his right, and he got to watch the robot's bite heal. He also felt quite a bit less stupid. But his head still hurt. And at long last, staring at the other Irken, he realized who exactly he was. And his reaction was not a happy one.

"What the- ZIM?"

"See? All better!" Zim said, grinning obliviously.

"Oh, of all places, of all people..." The violet-eyed Tallest extracted himself from the twisted metal surrounding him, then realized his hoverbelts had been broken by the impact by the simple fact that nothing stopped him from smacking face-first on the ground. "I get stuck here, with you." He got to his feet, swaying a bit from the unuse, then glanced back and recognized the ruins he had been delusional in as the remains of a Voot Cruiser. "Oh, and sorry about the, eh, ship.. thing."

The little Invader looked as though he had been slapped. He ran past Purple, staring in shock at the ruins. "My ship!"

Purple laughed a little despite himself, then realized something.

"That.. that was my only way off. Dammit!" He kicked a wall, and nearly fell for the effort. Zim glanced at him, blinking and scratching beside his left antennae, thinking. He was apparently done grieving over his ship.

"Well, there is one more..." He started, then yelped as Purple swung him into the air by his collar, face-to-face and quite a bit off the ground.

"Where? Where the hell is it? Tell me!" Shaking him.

When his leader finally allowed his brain to stop rolling around like a bag of marbles, Zim answered. "It belongs to a human, though. Can't get too close without getting his attention. And he knows our weaknesses." Well, some of them, but there was no telling what else Dib had learned.

"FUCK!" He screeched, throwing the little Irken at the ground. This was a side that Zim hadn't seen before, and so he was more intrigued then afraid. But he did hurt now, and so he sat there, somewhat dazed. Then a thought came to him, and he started smiling sunnily again, the expression distracting Purple from his rage and disturbing him at the same time. "What the hell are you so happy about?"

Then he said something Purple never thought he would hear out of him, and it sent his brain into disgusted, violent revulsions.

"Think of this way... we're roomies now!"

He stared at him, trying to get that sentence through his head. Roommates.. with Zim. The next thing that escaped his lips expressed it all:

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!_"

* * *

Muwhaha.

DS likes the jelly-eyes bit. Me too, actually, but I'm not supposed to like my own stuff.

You know what to do now.


	4. Filth

Chapter Four: Filth

* * *

It had been three days.

Three days.

Just long enough for Zim to see all the stages of dealing with an emotional problem.

It had been quite amusing, actually.

At first, there was denial. Purple refused to speak to him on the account that he didn't exist, none of this was happening, and that the flustered Tallest was NOT on a backwoods planet in some backwoods corner of the universe. He was continually saying to himself that it was all a dream, staggering about in circles (as his hoverbelts were still broken), and pulling madly at his antennae. The Invader-that-apparently-did-not-exist had to make him stop that before he pulled them out.

Then anger. That was the end of the first day into the second, and the human neighbors were kept up all night by Purple cursing and screaming at the top of his breathing organ, kicking things, cursing at said things because they hurt his foot, and repeatedly beating some body part on some piece of furniture. Once again, Zim had to stop him, only to be a little Irken punching bag for a bit. That was the only part he didn't like. Otherwise, watching Purple's change in personality tickled him pink. Or lilac. Or magenta. Or something.

After that... depression. Which basically involved a lot of crying, comfort food (Ben and Jerry's ice cream - a LOT of Ben and Jerry's ice cream), and indecipherable strings of words in which Zim could only pick out the words "you" and "stuck" and "I'm" and "a" and "lunatic" and "with", which could spell out "I'm stuck with a lunatic - you", or "I'm a lunatic stuck with you". Both ways made perfect sense, what with all the blubbering in between. Purple had started this stage looking for something alcoholic, but, finding nothing remotely resembling it, wailed wrathfully at Zim and started bingeing on ice cream.

He didn't even know he'd had ice cream until then.

Acceptance was a lot like depression: lots of ice cream, and the couch. Slumped on the couch with accumulating filth around him, soda can on his stomach and a half-empty tub of Ben and Jerry's hanging loosely from his right hand, to be precise. The filth was mainly old ice cream tubs and soda cans, maybe the occasional pizza box as GIR repeatedly used him as a slightly smaller couch to eat, seeing as he was taking up the rest of the actual couch. The defective SIR unit was doing that now, actually, sitting on Purple's head with his very own pint of Ben and Jerry's. Said pint was on his head, but hey, he got one. Wouldn't leave his "couch" alone until he got one, and now he does. Stupid robot.

Zim frowned, unfortunately recognizing this pitiful state of couch-potatodom. He'd been there once. Give Purple a nasty white tank top, and it'd be almost exactly the same - except with less filth and more ice cream. Damn. Why hadn't he gotten some ice cream when he was being all depressed and mopey? Regrettable memory aside, he approached this pig sty that was once a couch, sufficiently blocking the TV. Even though the TV was rather large.

"Oi, Zim," Purple said irately, first time he'd spoken to him directly in these lovely three days. "I can't watch m'shows through your fat ass."

"My ass is not fat, my Tallest. Quite the opposite." He replied sulkily, but didn't move.

"I don't care. Just move it so I can see the goddamn TV."

The other crossed his arms. "No."

"Move, Zim."

"Nu-uh."

"Dammit!" In a high-pitched, half-drunk tone. "The Tallest of the Squid-beans _commands_ you!"

Zim stared at him for a moment, then moved forward, despite the stink that was starting to exhume from the couch. Purple glared at him, and he stared back. Then he politely reached up and took the pint out of his hand, sending him into miniature convulsions.

"No more Ben and Jerry's for you, my Tallest." He stated simply, ignoring the horrified stare. "You're relapsing."

Purple looked as though to protest, then just slumped back and pouted, muttering childishly, "Motherfucking ice cream Nazi", only he still had a mouthful of ice cream, and so it came out "muggerfugging aish ceem nashi" or something similar. Zim sighed exasperatedly and took the can off his stomach as well. This action only got a tiny reaction out of him - a dark snort and something along the lines of "soda Nazi".

"Sooner or later, you're going to have to get off that couch," He said casually. "And soon enough, you'll have to get used to being in my magnificent presence."

Purple blatantly ignored the first part of that statement. "I have."

"That's not a good way to cope."

"People on TV do it."

"TV doesn't have all the answers, you know."

"It doesn't?"

"Not a one."

For some reason Zim felt like the wife in a human marriage - the thought repulsed him, but made sense at the same time. Here he was, cleaning up the couch around his "husband", who just lay there and twitched now and again when he accidentally touched him. It was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. That, and touching all those used tubs... slobber from when GIR got one or when _he_ hadn't used a spoon and slopped it all down like a dog... that was just plain gross. Call him a germaphobe, but not even stuff used by the Tallest was sanitary once it hit the floor. And couch cushions. And... his foot. Used spoon. Ew.

Zim violently kicked the spoon away and once again glared down his Tallest, having ridden the couch of the _other _filth.

"We must do something about your vegetative state," He began again, this time in a more official and slightly less wife-ish tone of voice. Purple attempted to make the hand puppet "blah blah blah" motions while he was talking, but remembered he had no thumbs and spent the next couple of seconds figuring out how to make that motion thumbless. Amusing, in other circumstances. "It's disgusting. And pathetic. Not Tallest-like at all."

A pause.

"And if you don't quit doing that, I'm going to have to take drastic measures."

"Drastic measures--" Mocking him, then realizing just what those measures were. "Hey! You can't do that! I'm watchin' that!"

Zim held up the remote.

"Try me."

Purple scowled, but obediently stopped 'doing that' - he'd just figured out how, too.

"As I was saying," He continued, arms and remote behind his back. "This has to stop. Motion. You need motion. You need air. While Earth air is full of human chemicals, smog, and other filthy things, it has to better than inhaling ice cream."

"I like inhaling ice cream." The other added indignantly. Zim ignored him.

"The Voot is still repairing itself from a certain _incident_, so yes, you are stuck with me. But the least you could do is have fun with it." He thought a moment. His mind fell back on its old track. "Perhaps you could assist me in annihilating the humans?"

No response.

"Apparently not. Nevermind, there has to be something we can do. Something... fun. You can't keep vegetating like that. You're starting to smell."

"I can sleep," Purple muttered unhelpfully. Then actually thought about it. "Or bathe."

"Good start! But we have to keep you moving or you'll just... _inflate _until you're nothing but a fat, bloated, stinking green sausage!"

"I'm comfortable, though. Can't it wait?" He whined, peering over Zim's head. "My shows are on!"

"You don't _have _shows, my Tallest."

"Yes I do." He pouted.

Zim sighed, turning the TV off. This was getting ridiculous.

"TV go dark," Purple pointed out, then frowned. "Give it life, man! It needs to live! My head hurts!"

"Relapsing!" The other yelled, roughly slapping his Tallest across the cheek. First time that's happened since... well, that's a different story. It made him shut up, at least. Which was good. But it made Zim feel a little guilty - Irkens aren't supposed to backhand their leaders. But he supposed that if the leaders deserved it, then they could. He hoped. He wouldn't dwell on it.

"Now my _face_ hurts," His victim muttered.

Once again ignoring his input, Zim grabbed Purple's right arm and dragged him bodily off the couch. He ended up face down on the floor, limp as a wet noodle, with one leg still trying to hold its position on the couch. The little Irken didn't let it, thwacking the foot attached so that it fell to the floor with its mate. He then toed at his leader's head until he felt motivated to roll over. A stiff foot later, and he finally rolled, staring blankly up at Zim with Zim staring back, once again feeling maternal. Sickeningly so.

"First, we're going to work on actually moving your stupid legs." He told him, pushing him to an upright position. It was like pushing a human mannequin or corpse, as Purple was not helping at all. In fact, he thought he was pushing against him, trying to crush him. Out of sheer frustration, he bit the other's right antenna (it was right there, dangling in his face), which got a good squeal out of him, and the act of sitting ramrod straight.

Step one, complete. Now to get him actually on his stupid feet.

He deployed his spider legs, attempted several methods - one of which being that he jabbed Purple in the ass - then he suddenly came across a thought. He leaned in close to the violet-eyed Tallest's right antenna, and clicked his teeth as though biting something. As Purple was still suffering from the actual bite, this got the same reaction, except instead of sitting upright he was standing wobbily on his feet. Looked like he'd been boozing those three days, staggering around and such, but at least he wasn't on the couch or the floor.

"That was uncalled for, Zim," Purple whined, rubbing at his bitten antenna. Then he made the motion to sit back down on the couch, ruining that whole process.

"NO! YOU WILL NOT SIT UNTIL YOU HAVE MOVED!!" Zim yelled, tossing the remote at the other's head.

It connected, as Purple hadn't been expecting it, and now he was wobbling again due to the thing setting off his balance, what little he'd established. Basically, by trying to fix the problem, he made it worse. Classic Zim-like problem-solving.

"Fuckmonkeys!" The Invader exclaimed, deploying his spider legs in order to direct Purple when he fell. Which he would.

But strangely enough, he didn't. Why? Because he was using his own spider legs to stabilize himself. Not exactly what Zim had expected, but it was better than peeling his Tallest off the floor again. Said Tallest was giving him a weird look.

"Fuckmonkeys?" He asked, blinking.

"Spur of the moment thing, you know," Zim muttered, scratching beside an antenna. Then he remembered what they were supposed to be doing. "Now, my Tallest. Let's see if you can walk to the TV."

"TV!" Purple exclaimed happily.

Long story short, he got to the TV, was slapped in the hand with what appeared to be a turkey baster when he tried to turn it on, tried to kick Zim, fell on his ass, and the whole process repeated. Eventually, he got his "land legs", or whatever. And now he was even more anxious to go back, now that he'd gained life in his lower extremities again.

This was vocalized on the fourth day.

"I'm sorry, my Tallest, but the Voot hasn't recovered yet." He told him for approximately the fourteenth time.

The fourth day wasn't exactly extraordinary except for the fact that a certain someone wasn't bingeing all his ice cream away, and that instead of lounging on the couch, he'd been aimlessly wandering from room to room, always ending up in the living room, where Zim and pretty much a store's worth of cleaning equipment were, of course, cleaning. It's amazing just what lengths ice cream will go to just to make your house smell bad. Once again he'd busted out his microgoggles, and was currently crouched in front of the couch, battling a swarm of whatever microbes did just that.

He could have sworn that one just tried to bite him.

"Why not?"

"Because there was a lot of damage incurred when your fat ass landed on it." He didn't look up from the splotch of Ben and Jerry's as he said this, and so didn't notice Purple's indignant expression. Or anything else but that splotch.

"My ass is not--" Purple trailed off and twisted around, trying to look behind himself. "Well, it might be. But can't your stupid ship fix itself any faster?"

"The repairs are going as fast as they can. In the meantime... how about we go to the carnival?"

"What the hell have you been sniffing, Zim?"

"Your filth. I tried opening the window but it still smells like couch slob in here. It stewed for a day and got worse."

Purple scowled at this, crossing his arms and peering down at the little Irken.

"I'm your Tallest, you know."

"Mhm." Still fixed on the splotch.

"You're not treating me with the proper respect."

Zim froze mid-scrub.

"Well, maybe if you were acting like a Tallest, instead of a whiny brat who spreads filth, I'd treat you like one."

Back to the splotch.

Purple was speechless. First time he'd heard something actually smart out of that creature's mouth - and it had totally owned him. Burninated him. Completely and absolutely. He opened his mouth, attempting to think of something smart to say back, but closed it, demurely seating himself on the arm of the couch. One of the robotic arms cleaning that area mistook him for couch and started scrubbing his head, forcing him to get up again.

He thought he heard Zim giggling under his breath.

"It's got a point, you know. You're still disgusting."

"It's got a point, you know," He mocked sourly, wandering off ten feet and standing there, waiting. For what, he didn't know - probably Zim finally getting done with his stupid cleaning. I mean, come on - how clean did he expect it to be? Germless, by the looks of it. He snorted and threw the remote at the little hunched figure on the floor, which connected, as he was still fixed on that one spot.

"What? Who!" Zim noticed the remote laying not-so-innocently beside him, and his Tallest not-so-innocently whistling.

"Okay, then, my Tallest." He said, voice dangerously calm. He stood up, dropping his cleaning supplies, then slowly took off the microgoggles and gloves and assorted protective gear. "I see how it's gonna be."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Purple said, looking off to one side.

"Oh, but I do. Today, we're going to have a lesson about Earth."

_Lesson?_ He thought, wondering what the hell he just got himself into.

Zim disappeared into the kitchen, and when he returned, he was holding a bologna sausage in one hand, and a bucket of water in the other.

"And what it can do to Irkens."

* * *

Millions of lightyears away from this, she was hungry.

And before her stood a positively appetizing array of blood and flesh, like an All-You-Can-Eat buffet, moving back and forth in their day to day duties, their miserable lives, unknowing of her lust.

The All-You-Can-Eat buffet had a sign on it, you see. It said, in red marker, "You can't eat any of this". There the food stood, taunting her, their scents tantalizing her, causing her to even drool a little, although she wiped this away before the prey noticed. There it stood. And she couldn't have any of it. Not a single bite, not without causing an uproar. She had worked far too hard to get here, this untouchable buffet, and she wasn't about to be ejected back into the cold void of space just because she needed to sate her hunger.

But it was a mighty hunger. It turned her stomach on itself, gnawing a hole in itself, and still it wouldn't stay silent.

At long last, she couldn't ignore it.

The beast named Hunger had roared too loudly to ignore.

"I'm going to sleep," She announced, watching the food turn inquistive eyes upon her but not a one spoke. She saw fear in those eyes, could smell it in the air. Fear and hesitant obedience, the prominent things the food's assorted shades of eye color brimmed with. But she only cared about the fear. If they were afraid, their blood would taste sweeter. To her earlier announcement she added unnecessarily "Bother me and die.", watching the fear increase a little, as they knew she meant it.

She moved reluctantly from her chair and hovered down into the mass of food, closing her eyes to block out those fearful, inquisitive stares, biting her tongue as to calm herself with her own blood. The Hunger-beast snarled at her, loudly echoing in the empty hallway as the hatch door closed behind her. Here she thought she could have had rational thought, free of hunger and bloodlust, but instead it all rushed in like a thousand voices, clouding her senses, and no matter how hard she bit her tongue her hunger would not accept the foul-tasting substitute for Irken blood.

She had to have it fresh.

She had to have it warm.

It had to come from a living, screaming beast.

And the beast had to scream.

Her mind filled with the sound of the last one's screams, muffled against her claws as to not stir the useless one up anymore than he'd had to be, but still screams. And the screams had gotten more panicked, high-pitched, almost ridiculous, when she'd moved in and set her teeth into his head, and he had struggled uselessly against her until her fangs had found his soft, vulnerable brain. Then the screaming had stopped. But it wasn't any less enjoyable.

It was too much. She could almost taste his blood.

She had to hunt.

Deep in "thought", she didn't hear the woosh of the hatch door, nor the steps of a small janitorial drone, nor the wheels of the cart he was pushing. Only when he passed by her, giving the floor a timid "My Tallest", did she realize she now had something to hunt.

She waited until he turned the corner, just when his shadow was the only thing visible of him. She dropped into the floor, now naught but a shadow herself, a pair of glowing white globes swimming out of the darkness every once in a while to check her prey's position, shifting along the wall behind the drone's shadow. Then she merged with it, gliding so close she could touch him.

For some reason, he stopped. He glanced furtively over his shoulder, then turned back to his little cart, rummaging in one of the pockets. As much as she wanted to kill him, this motion intrigued the intellectual side of her, and so she lay in wait, watching. Oblivious of his silent audience, the drone seemed to find what he was looking for, pulling it out. She could barely make out the word "warning" at the top before the drone quickly wadded it up again and stuffed it back into the cart, chuckling to himself.

She growled, then realized the sound hadn't stayed in her restless mind.

"Whassat?" The drone looked around for the source, familiar fear slipping over his features. There we go. No longer a keeper of secrets, you are food. Scared, flighty food.

She thought of an answer to this question but ignored it, slowly inching her way out of the wall, claws aimed for his vulnerable throat...

"_Now docking into Irk._" A mechanical voice said, ruthlessly interrupting her hunt.

Damn her and her decisions.

She watched the drone walking off, whistling, and marked him in her head as later food. Then she reminded herself that she was going down to the planet's surface with a shitload of food, and was somewhat less infuriated. She slipped out of the wall and became a material Tallest once again, hovering back to the bridge. Whatever fury she still felt didn't show on her face, let alone her marble-like black eyes.

"Alright then. Off the ship."

Then she was standing before another All-You-Can-Eat buffet with its doors closed, with millions of their curious, somewhat fearful eyes peering up at the stage. Expectantly watching.

She had to make it official, after all.

* * *

Various sources for this one. A giant reference to a cancelled episode. See if you can find it. I said part of its name.

Zim and Purple do _not _like each other. Purple is used to being treated like royalty, and whatever respect Zim had for him dropped when he started filthing up his house. So there. First person who says their little squabble is a lover's spat will get a horrible, unimaginable punishment of my choosing, probably including some kind of garden tool and/or a rodent or three.

I just said that because DS mentioned something about it sounding like they were flirting or something.

Oh yeah, and that thing the drone looked at is important. Mmyep.

R&R, yo.


	5. Liftoff

Chapter 5: Liftoff

* * *

"Tallests Red and Purple are dead," Black stated simply, "and I am your new leader."

Instantly her audience started talking amongst themselves, and still somewhat clouded by her hunger, she let them. Her keen antennae could pick up clips of conversation, her mind buzzing with their thoughts. There were too many minds for her to control them, so she could only listen. Right near the stage there was a pair of them, talking and thinking rather loudly, and she focused her attention on them, though her eyes looked as though they were still focused on the space beyond all their heads.

"_That's _our new Tallest?"

"She's creepy lookin'. Gotta be her eyes. Ever seen a Tallest with black eyes? Or any Irken, for that matter."

"They sure picked a weird one this time."

"They sure did."

The peoples' thoughts were about the same as that little conversation: questioning, a few somewhat awed, one gibbering on about cheese.

Then she realized she didn't really care. The Hunger-beast snarled softly and she decided it was about time she start talking again. She cleared her throat, and surprisingly enough, they shut up, as though trained. They probably were. But she didn't care about that, either.

"I _am _your leader," She repeated, coldly. "and as such I demand your obedience. Even more so than the other Tallests you've served beneath." A few murmurs broke out, but stopped when she spoke again. Her voice took on strange tone. "I know all." Glaring to the left. "I hear all." At the two whose conversation she'd dropped in on first. "I see all." Then at all of them. "Aesthetics have nothing to do with my leadership over you. You will obey me, whether my eye color happens to creep you out or not. I may be 'weird', but I am _certainly _taller than all of you."

They hesitantly cheered in short bursts, but then went silent, looking amongst themselves. She smelled the predecessor of fear - nervousness - among them and felt her determination slip, the urge to hunt and kill rising again. She quashed it, as well as the sense she had just contradicted herself, remembering her train of thought.

The tone disappeared. "Well, now that that's aside, I have a more pressing order of business. I'm looking for a document."

Her eyes sought out the drone, who was mindlessly cleaning up snack-filth.

"A _special_ one."

"What kind of special?" Someone said.

"It's headed with the word WARNING, in bright red text."

She noticed the drone stiffen, then begin glancing around nervously. She narrowed her eyes, somewhat targeting him with them. A few Irkens, curious, turned around to see what she was so fixed on.

"I would like it back." Added simply, casually, as her eyes narrowed further until they became mere slits of obsidian. "Since I know one of you have it, I want you to search your persons for it, either now or while going back to wherever the hell you came from."

As though hypnotized, several started going through their pockets, another group going through each others'. The drone conveniently did not obey, sinking a little so that only the top of his head was visible over the top of his cart, which he pushed out of the crowd and off toward messes that had nothing to do with their new Tallest.

Unfortunately, this motion made him noticeable to more than just Black, and so she could use this as an excuse.

"You!" She snapped a finger at him, making him freeze. "Where do you think you're going?"

He stuttered out something, but she paid no attention to it.

"Seize him!"

Several black-clad Irkens, her new body guards, leapt out of what seemed like nowhere and swooped in, grabbing the drone by the arms and flying back to the stage, his cart back where he had been. She scowled, noticing this, feeling that he wouldn't have been stupid enough to keep the document on his person. She turned to one of the other ones not holding him. "Fetch his cart."

"No!" The drone blurted out, then squeaked and attempted to cover his mouth with his arms hoisted over his head by the guards.

She just grinned. In another situation, she may have pondered about spying and whatnot, but she was hungry and curious. The other Irkens were perplexed by these actions, but she didn't care about that either. She would have meat tonight, and whatever he had been hiding as a prize.

"My Tallest," The guard broke in, setting the cart before her.

"Thank you, dearheart." She purred, voice like sugar-coated acid. The other blinked and stepped back two feet, then regained his composure - by the wall. Coward. She snorted inwardly and fished about in the pockets of the dingy little cart, noticing with the corner of her eye fear setting over the drone's features. Not the normal, generic fear; the kind of fear you get when you know you've been busted. The fear of punishment, probably death.

Eventually her fingers found what they were looking for, and she pulled it out. It was still wadded up, but she slowly unwadded it, smoothing it out against a body guard's back. Then she held it up for the audience, gauntlet conviently blocking whatever was under that giant "WARNING" on the top.

"Guess who's my thief," She said casually, now slipping the document into her pockets, to be looked at later.

The Irken crowd glared at the drone.

"What should we do with 'im, my Tallest?" One of his captors prompted.

The black-eyed female instead looked at the drone, starting to grin viciously at him.

"Oh, just leave that to me."

The drone gulped, as though sensing what was to come.

His fear would not be unfounded.

* * *

"Let's go over this again, my Tallest."

"I don't wanna. I think my face is bleeding. Is it bleeding?"

"No, but it will be if you don't shut up and pay attention."

Purple muttered something, then shrieked as Zim expertly squirted him in the face with a spray gun loaded with water.

"As I was saying. Water is bad."

"Gotcha."

Zim held up his weapon threateningly and the other fell silent.

"Meat is also bad."

"Knew that." _Ssst. _"FUCK! That hurts!"

"Earth meat is worse. Much worse. I'm surprised I haven't died from exposure yet."

"You should."

_Ssst. _

"FUCK!"

This had been going on for perhaps a day. Zim had taken it upon himself to tell Purple all he knew about Earth, their customs, whatnot, the stuff you could only learn from experience and not TV, which Purple had a fixation with comparing everything to. You would have thought they'd have covered the weaknesses early, but for some reason he hadn't started with them. The violet-eyed leader had been squirted with that damn spray thing so many times he forgot whatever the hell it had been.

The spray thing had come in rather recently. As seen, his "captor" used it much as the same as one would a naughty cat. Step out of line, you get a face full of poisonous, burning liquid. He'd done that a few too many times today, as one eye was closed and was starting to swell a little from the repeated exposure. It hurt like hell, too, and being somewhat soft, Purple would complain about that, only to get shot in the face again.

"Okay, now that that's been said and done, time for rules."

"Shouldn't you have said the rules _before _you started teaching me stuff?"

"SILENCE!" A vengeful squirt in the swollen eye made him obey.

"Rule number one - this is Zim's house, so Zim makes the rules. You have no power in this house. I am your Tallest here, and you will obey me."

Purple opened his mouth to protest, noticed the gun near his face, and closed it again.

"Rule two. You must never leave the house unless you are disguised as something. It doesn't necessarily have to look human."

"So I can go outside as a lamp?" This was pure curiosity here.

Zim simply squirted him in the face and continued.

"Rule three... er..." He thought about it, being as he had only come up with these two minutes ago. "Oh yes. You can never, ever, EVER touch my ice cream ever again. I only just found out I had some and you went and binged on it."

"I wanted somethin' sweet to calm my nerves."

Surprisingly enough, Zim didn't squirt him for that one.

"Yeah, well, you have to binge something else next time. Which reminds me. Number four." He shuddered a little at the memory of the filth his Tallest had spread over his house and couch. "You have to clean up after yourself. Pull your damn weight." He got the wifeish feeling again and violently shook his head, now wanting to squirt himself. But he didn't. He wasn't any more a fan of pain than Purple was.

"Speaking of that," Purple said, holding up a gauntlet to both signal a pause in Hitler time and to maybe protect his vulnerable face from a resulting squirt. "I thought because I 'filthed it up', you weren't going to let me on the couch anymore."

A moment of silence in which Zim perceived the obviously seated position of his student.

"Your point being?"

Somewhat cocky now, the other grinned, arm going back down. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"I did not."

"Then why am I on the couch?"

"Because.." Zim blinked, and Purple swore he heard those little psychotic gears turning to come up with something. Probably something stupid. "Because.. because... I.. you.. SILENCE!!"

_Ssssssst. _

"FUCK!"

Note to self, never get into a battle of wits with a moron armed with a gun. He may not have any ammunition up top, but if cornered, he will use that gun. And it will hurt. Badly.

Speaking of morons... one certain robotic one had been seated on the couch beside Purple during Hitler time, somewhat paying attention (mainly because Purple's agonized scream of "FUCK" every time he got squirted made him giggle), but now that they weren't actually doing anything anymore, his attention wandered to the TV, which was dark to keep his momentary entertainment from being distracted. He frowned, sliding off the couch, waddling past Zim and immediately turning it on.

Zim noticed, but didn't care.

All he got for the effort was static, however. GIR whined softly, muttered "TV broken...", then, rather than trying to change the channel from the static, hopped over it and started messing with the wires and things at its back. Once again, he went unnoticed. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he hopped back, just in time to catch his master tongue-lashing and squirting his Tallest again. He giggled, crawling back up on the couch.

"It's in the rules!"

"Fuck the rules! FUCK!"

"Don't make me put this thing where it shouldn't go!"

"FUCK! And where would that be?"

"Why don't you try me and find out?"

"FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! _FUCK!_"

"I WARNED YOU!"

"YOU'RE SICK! FUCK!"

"THANK YOU!"

"STOP THAT, DAMMIT! _FUUCK! _STOPPIT!"

"NEVAR!"

"_FUUUUCK! _MY BRAINS!!"

Something from the TV interrupted them, Zim standing on Purple's chest with the spray gun jammed between his antennae - an extremely tender spot for an Irken, by the way, with all the nerves and stuff underneath. A view of Irk. A view of Irk with a buttload of Irkens gathered in front of the main plaza. The camera swooped in on the person standing on the stage.

Purple almost had a coronary.

Black. Fucking. Eyes.

"...coverage from today's meeting," A reporter was saying from off-screen. "called by an enigmatic and rather tall Irken known only as Black. Who is she, really? Where did she come from? And what is _with _those eyes?"

The voice fell silent and the black-eyed Irken spoke.

"Tallests Red and Purple are dead, and I am your new leader."

Unfortunately, that was about as far as she got, as the TV was now a smoking ruin with a gaping hole in the screen from where GIR had impacted. Zim's confusion at losing such an asset dissipated into something of alarm as he noticed that Purple, arm still in the air from throwing the robot at the TV, was shaking with rage. He looked a little like he did during the anger stage of his emotional thing, and as such reminded the little Invader that he probably shouldn't try to do anything to stop whatever he might do, being as he didn't want to die.

What? That's what he looked like, like he was going to kill something.

Either that, or explode.

"Dammit!" Purple screamed, and Zim was somewhat surprised it hadn't been 'fuck' that came out first. "Those idiots! They let that... that.. _thing_ on Irk!" This part was sort of directed at his "roomie". "I've seen what it does! I watched it fucking EAT one of my fucking advisors! And they're letting it rule the fucking Empire just because it _happens_ to be tall!"

"She.. it.. ate someone?" Curosity overcame Zim at that moment.

And you know all about curiosity's bad rep.

"That stupid ship has to be fixed by _now_!" Holding up the little Invader by his collar again. "That's MY Empire that monster's fat ass is running now! We have to get it back!"

At least he wasn't being shaken again.

"Well, My Tallest, I suppose the repairs _should _be finished..." Provided nothing stupid has happened to the ship, he added silently. Then he yelped as Purple rudely threw him at the couch and sped off into the kitchen. Zim recovered fast enough to catch the hilarious sight of his Tallest attempting to fit headfirst into the toilet. He would have laughed, had said Tallest not extracted himself and started raging around the room.

"Computer. Repair bay." A pause. "Send him first."

You can't rage while you're screaming down a hole, after all. At least, not very well.

The hole was supposed to be the elevator, but he had an idea the computer had gotten as tired of Purple's tantrums as its master and just sent him down the express way. Zim followed, deploying his jets and hovering down to where the other was laying, dazed, by the mostly repaired Voot Cruiser. You also can't rage very well with brain damage.

"That was mean, Zim," He frowned and squinted. "And.. er.. other Zims."

Zim sighed, grabbing his Tallest's arm again and dragging him toward the ship. "Just come on."

* * *

Dib was curious. And, as usual, suspicious.

His target of investigation had stayed out of school far too long for it to just be a coincidence. Okay, so maybe most of a skool week isn't "far too long", but with that time the Irken could be doing _anything._

For all he knew, Zim could have planted a bomb in the Earth's core, having taken those four days to tunnel into the crust and--

Well. He had rights to be suspicious anyhow. A strange multicolored _thing _had opened up four days ago, above that wicked little house. Then, there was the screaming. And not screams of horror, or fear, as though Zim was running a torture house - no, these were obscene screams of fury. And they didn't sound at all like Zim. His common sense had cautioned him to stay away from the house because of those screams, as whoever vocalizing them, being as they were in cahoots with Zim, was probably capable of ripping his organs out with their pinky nail.

The screams stopped, then replaced by wails. There's your anguish, right there. It sounded a little like a crying siren in there. He'd picked out a few words once, had pieced together "I'm a lunatic stuck with you" or "I'm stuck with a lunatic - you" (which both fit, but were still disturbing). It had increased in volume and ferocity once - perhaps his archnemesis had displeased it. Damn. Now he's considering the possibility that Zim was now dealing in the paranormal and had captured a ghost -- no, a banshee -- to do his evil bidding.

He really had to control his brain.

After that, nothing. His common sense dropped back to the little used portion of his mind where it belonged, and he began, as usual, making plans to spy on Zim and perhaps his little ghost demon friend, if he had one. The demon friend's voice was familiar, somehow, but the recognition stopped with the voice itself. He would see when he got there, he decided.

He then realized his feet were already taking him to Zim's house, unarmed with anything but a couple of pencils and his laptop.

"Dammit, feet," He scolded, then stopped in his tracks, just outside the property, frowning slightly. The gnomes were laying on their sides. Robotic arms were fixing a good sized hole in the roof, almost done by the looks of it. _It must be a huge-ass hole if it takes four days_, he thought. Then his frown darkened. What makes that kind of hole?

A little voice known as Reason spoke up. What comes out multicolored swirly things in the sky in the first place, hm?

_I don't know. Lot's of stuff. It could be a meteor for all I know._

But then why would Zim keep said meteor? And would a meteor scream and wail?

_It might be some kind of meteor-dwelling alien thing that Zim is keeping as a pet to rend humans limb from limb._

Reason fell silent for the moment, faced with yet another wild theory. Reason also considered this theory with surprising seriousness - after all, who knows what comes from swirly things in the sky?

It was a long while before Reason considered a comeback, and by that time Dib was standing in front of the door with its men's room label on top, and primed to... well, ring the doorbell, he supposed. How retarded. But he was on autopilot, and extremely confused. And there was that incident yesterday, with the green beans... anyone's brain would be addled after that.

That was when he almost got ran over by a certain spaceship, which was flying about like it was being driven by a maniac.

He lay there for a minute, gathering his thoughts, then blinked and jumped to his feet. That was Zim! And.. some other guy!

That explained the lousy flying.

"ZIM! COME BACK!" He yelled, fruitlessly. "I HAVEN'T ATTACKED YOU IN DAYS!!"

Then he took off running, leaving his pencils on Zim's doorstep, and hell, probably his laptop too.

The hunt was on.

* * *

My reasoning for Purple being stupid is because he is mad, and his little Reason-voice shut up too.

And yeah. Dib's part of it now because... well, he was getting neglected, and he plays a slightly bigger role a little later. Maybe. Okay, so he's the busboy. BUT! That is a role, is it not?

Fear Black and her mad skillz.

R&R, y0. And happy holidays. Or whatever.


	6. No More F Bombs

Chapter 6: No More F Bombs

* * *

It was a slow day.

Even the FBI gets bored sometimes.

"Go fish."

"Dammit, Greg."

A pair of men who were supposed to be monitoring the radar for anything "weird" were currently sprawled on the floor, playing Go Fish of all games, because one of them didn't know any other games and the other really didn't care as long as it distracted him from boredom. One could be recognized by Dib if he were there (Greg), the other a weaselly red-headed man known as Rob. Rob's life was full of acronyms. He worked for the FBI, he had ADD, OCD, and HIV, and his brain was currently AWOL. Every few turns he'd forget what the rules were for Go Fish.

Greg, being that he had no mental problems to speak of, was winning. But he was getting rather tired of explaining the world's simplest card game.

"Look, Robbie, I think we're going to have to play something else."

"Come onnnnnn... it's Go Fish, for Pete's sake! You're not _skeered_, are ya?"

The other stared blankly at him, then started to put away the cards.

"You suck, G-dawg."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay then. G-man."

"Getting colder."

"The Gregster?"

"Stop talking."

"..you suck." Rob's ADD kicked in around then. "What's that beepin' noise? It's really annoying."

"You mean like you?"

"Yeah. Wait. No. Hey!"

Greg ignored him, looking over his shoulder at the radar they were supposed to be watching. On it, besides all the rocks and things that kept showing up on it, there was a large green splotch, moving rather fast toward the center. He turned on his earphone and spoke into it, looking all cool and FBI-like. Rob was trying to play tag with a fly. The fly was winning.

"We have a bogey, repeat, we have a bogey." He said, importantly.

There was a pause, then the voice on the other end chuckled.

"You should wipe it, then."

"I'm being serious here. Incoming bogey. It looks like a big one."

"How big?"

He glanced at the radar, only to notice the "bogey" disappearing. "Holy fuckmonkeys. It's gone."

"Gone? Are you sure it was even there to start with?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It was there just a minute ago--"

"LOOKIT THAT!" Screamed Rob, cutting him off. He was about to cuss out the little freak when he saw what Rob was pointing out.

It looked like an alien spaceship.

It was on fire.

And it was coming this way.

* * *

A couple hundred miles from Earth's atmosphere, a similar scene was playing out between two space pirates.

Except it wasn't Go Fish, it was "I Spy".

"I spy... with my little eye... something white and sparkly."

One was rather short, bright yellow eyes, green, with reptile-like legs coming from its shoulders and little arms dangling from its hips. It appeared to be male, wearing what used to be a prison uniform, and lounging on the pilot's seat.

This one's name is Spudgy.

"A star." Spudgy muttered, sipping on a soda gripped in a nubby hand.

"You're good at this! Okay, my go again..."

The other was a spindly bluish one, arms and legs in more normal places, also male, wearing nothing but a stripey tie, eyes a similar color only with more green. You could see the obvious idiocy in this one's eyes as he stared out the window, squinting hard to find something else to 'spy'.

This is Spooger.

"Just a guess - a star."

"You must be psychic or something!"

Spudgy snorted and threw his soda contemptuously at his idiot co-pilot.

"There's nothing out here but some rocks, that stupid-looking planet, and stars. Stars and stars and stars."

"It's a universe, silly. You can't have a universe without stars." Spooger was oblivious to the other's building rage while he blathered on, wandering over to the console. "Then it'd get kind of dark and lonely. Can't have a dark and lonely universe, now can we?"

"Screw the universe, I just want some decent food. And money. Money's good."

"It's all money with you, isn't it?"

"And food."

"A pirate's life is supposed to be about fun, and adventure--"

"Don't forget killing, swearing, and bad hygiene."

"--and all those nice things. You're a sorry pirate, that's what you are." Spooger raised a brow and sniffed pretentiously. "You still smell clean."

Spudgy rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair a bit so he wouldn't have to look at his partner's ugly mug. Not that his own was any better, but at least there was a chance he might stop talking if there wasn't any eye contact. He was wrong, of course, but the view was better. Stars. Stars and stars and stars. And that stupidly blue planet. Why were they drifting by that planet?

"Oh, yeah," He muttered to himself, eyes having drifted over the little arrow pointing to the E on their fuel drive. "That's why. Dumbass spent all our fuel shopping. What kind of pirate shops till they drop, anyway?"

"Did you say something?"

"Nope."

"You were talking about me again, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

He heard an overly exasperated sigh and braced himself for what was to come.

"Spudgy, you poo-poo head! I told you a thousand times before never to talk about me while my back's turned! In the same room, no less! And my back wasn't even turned yet! There's no one there, no one's listening to you, unless you've got little worms in your head, which I don't doubt--"

The mis-limbed alien tuned him out... and then he noticed something. Something purple. Flying rather fast out of the planet's atmosphere. A ship? A ship with the Irken symbol on its flank? If it was an Irken ship, then maybe there was food. Irkens loved food almost as much as Spudgy himself. He swiveled back, kicking the floor so that the chair was right next to the console.

"Lookit that!" He said, pointing at the Irken ship. "Let's shoot it down!"

Spooger stuck out his tongue. "I don't know..." Then he turned and started rustling in one of the ship's side compartments. He eventually fished out what looked like a little tape recorder type thing, and as his partner saw it he groaned. "Let us consult... the box."

"Spooger, you idiot..."

The other ignored him, holding his prize close by his earhole.

"_Don't do it._" His own voice told him importantly.

"Here, how about _this _box?" Spudgy tossed another one at him, which he held up to the other hole.

"_Do it!_" Spudgy's voice urged.

He frowned, lowering them both.

"Can't I have a third option?"

"Oh, screw that," His partner growled, throwing some switches for the lasers. "Blasting the shit out of that thing in three, two..."

A light show erupted just as he started to say one. The purple ship jerked, almost danced, from all the hits, then started falling back into the planet's atmosphere, exploding into flames upon contact.

There was a moment of silence.

"Shouldn't we have pillaged it first?" Spooger asked, his dilemma forgotten.

Spudgy groaned.

"Dammit."

The other brightened.

"Okay then! I spy, with my little eye..."

* * *

After nearly hitting Dib, the ride into the atmosphere was almost actually smooth. No air planes to avoid, no sudden engine troubles, maybe a few stupid birds that didn't know flying straight at things that are bigger than them is BAD... only on the inside, it was a much different story.

The Voot Cruiser was built for one, maybe two, normal-sized Irkens.

Not a Tallest.

So, currently, since he took up most of the seat anyway, Purple was sitting with his head half-smashed against the roof, his arms resting rather close to Zim's head (and getting a bit closer to his neck every time he said something he didn't like). Zim was sitting in his lap, piloting the ship the best he could with his Tallest breathing down his neck. Which, considering the fact they hadn't hit anything yet, was actually pretty good.

"Fuck," Purple muttered, squirming a little to take some of the pressure off his right antenna.

"About that," Zim said suddenly, almost making him jump. "There's a new rule. No more fuck."

"Why not? What's wrong with fuck?"

The other ignored him. "Every time you 'drop an f bomb', you will be punished."

His Tallest considered this, shifting again so that the left antenna could breathe.

"Fuck." He said, experimentally. He was rewarded with a face full of water, which caused him to cry out the usual obscenity, which got him squirted again. During his next outburst, he grabbed Zim's arm before he could squirt him.

"This is a stupid rule, Zim - you know it's just going to keep repeating itself."

"Then find a different word to say when you get squirted." The little Invader thought a little more on the subject, easily freeing his arm from the other's grip and setting the spray gun down in his own lap. "And try to stop swearing in general. It's not ladylike."

Purple spluttered, the statement taking a bit longer than usual to register. His fingers twitched and moved a little closer to Zim's neck, but to stop himself from killing off the pilot (as it's been a while since he's piloted something, and he'd probably end up crashing before he re-figures out the controls), he changed the subject.

"You know..." He frowned. "This is... really weird."

It took Zim a moment to realize what Purple was talking about. For some reason, he flushed.

"S'the only way you'd fit," He muttered.

"I know, but still. I'm not accustomed to having small warm things in my lap."

"Now you're making it sound gross."

"You'd know, being that you are a small, warm, gross thing."

_Ssst._

"Fu--FROOTLOOPS!!"

Zim turned and stared at him.

"What the hell?"

Purple muttered something unintelligible, but didn't sound remotely like fuck and so Zim let him alone about it.

Around then the Voot had broken through Earth's atmosphere, and he started putting in coordinates, only to have Purple reach over and put in different ones. Well, he probably knows where the fleet is right now, so...

Something black caught his eye.

A ship. A pirate's ship.

A pirate's ship with a buttload of weaponry out.

He had a second to scream uselessly "DUCK!" (Purple swatted him but attempted anyway) before that buttload opened fire, and the blaze of lasers both scarred his retinas and caused the Voot to jerk around, shaking the Irkens inside like a pair of alien beans or some kind of living cocktail. He thought he heard the computer reporting something about critical damage, but said computer had also made all the alarms go off, and there was the screaming - screaming he only realized he was being a part of. He could smell smoke.

Then the ship fell, plunging into the atmosphere, its passengers stuck against the windshield, having no idea where the hell it was going only that they were falling, and still screaming--

Clouds, sky, birds, cactus--

CRASH.

Then nothing at all.

* * *

No Black in this chapter, but three OCs. Three _useless _OCs, of course.

The part with "the box" was inspired by one of those stupid My Lil' Reminder commercials. I asked my parents if I could have one and call it a conscience, and then it ended up with 'Let us consult.. the box'.

Spudgy and Spooger's names are the names of some people's Water Meats on Gaia. Don't know what I'm talking about? GOOD.

Spudgy's character design was shamelessly stolen from those Energizer aliens. Poor guys.

The whole no swearing thing was because a couple of people were having problems with the amount of f bombs Purple kept dropping, and the swearing in general. Sorry guys. It's my high school, I swear it.

R&R, y0.

P.S.: If it makes any sense, you might want to try reading the chapter from the bottom up. Or not. It's up to you.


	7. Desert Woes

Chapter 7: Desert Woes

* * *

_Where am I? What happened..? Am I dead..? No, wait, my head wouldn't hurt if I was dead..._

It was dark. Then again, that might be just because he hadn't opened his eyes yet.

It was also cold.

And he found that not just his head hurt. Everything hurt. Which is only natural, considering they just practically exploded, then crashed into a... a... what exactly had they crashed into, anyway? The last thing he'd seen was a cactus, which meant they had to be somewhere cactuses-- cacti-- however you say it-- grow, and while that put out a bunch of wheres, the what wasn't explained yet.

He opened his eyes, just in time to have them blinded by a high powered light overhead. He realized then that he was strapped into a chair, and there was this weaselly-looking red-headed human not that far away.

_Damn, it's worse. I'm not dead... I've been captured._

Somehow, the thought didn't surprise him all that much.

"He's awake," The human said, and another human wandered into his line of sight. "This one's coming to as well." The first human looked off into the darkness, in a general rightish direction, and he thought he heard his Tallest's voice say "Fuck". He frowned, looking directly at the second human, whose head was somewhat blocking out that damned light.

"Hit him for me, please," Zim said, croaking slightly from all the smoke and dust he'd inhaled. "He's breaking rule five."

The human he was talking to blinked, and then a loud smack and resulting yelp was heard.

"Thank you."

The other frowned behind his FBI-brand shades, beginning to pace, much as Zim himself during "Hitler time". He was talking to himself, trying to arrange his thoughts. At least he wasn't whispering.

"Non-human creatures piloting an unidentified spacecraft in a restricted airspace-- damaging a government building--"

"We were shot down." He protested, only to have an ECU of the man's face.

"I don't care! You think the _government _cares? You think the _FBI_ will care? Sure, we now have two good specimens for research -- but research doesn't fix fucking _buildings_, now does it?"

"Do you really need both of us? I'm sure only one will do--"

"WE MUST LEAVE NO EVIDENCE!!"

"Could you not yell like that?" Purple's voice whined. "My head hurts. And my face too, thanks to _someone _commanding someone else to hit me."

"Hit him again, please."

Smack.

"Dammit, Zim!"

"You _obey_ Zim, remember."

The human with the gray hair ECU'd him again, this time pushing his head into the chair with a large hand on his forehead. Apparently, he was getting tired of their squabbling. He couldn't blame him. But since his head hurt as well, that little motion was uncalled for, and, by instinct, he tried to bite him. He ended up getting slapped himself. But he'd gotten some teeth in his hand when it came into contact, which was good. Maybe.

The gray man didn't seem to notice. In fact, he may have been a bit more pissed off since apparently the biting attempt threw off whatever 'cool' speech he'd been about to make during that motion.

"Touching," He growled. "I'd have never thought the small one was in control. Rob. Open up the dissection chambers."

"We have dissection chambers?"

"Yes, you dumbass."

"Where are they?"

"Oh, screw this. Just watch these aliens while _I _open up the dissection chambers."

"Righty-o, Greg-o!" The red-headed human saluted. His partner glared at him.

"Not even close." And then he was gone.

Once Greg was gone, Rob sat down on a chair Zim couldn't see, staring intently at him. Then at Purple. Then back at Zim. Then Purple again. Then Zim. Then he frowned and twiddled his fingers, stifling a yawn.

"This is boring." He said. "You guys aren't doing anything."

"What did you expect we'd do?" Purple snapped. "Juggle?"

The other's eyes brightened, and he clapped like a four year old. "Ooh! Juggling! I love juggling!"

This show of easy amusement gave Zim an idea.

"Oi, Rob-thing," He said, getting the man's attention. "If you let me go, I'll give you the best juggling show you've seen in your pitiful human life."

"I unno about that..." Rob frowned. "You don't seem like a juggler. How about you?" Looking at Purple.

The violet-eyed Tallest blinked. "Eh, I suppose so."

"Jugglies!" He cried happily, running over to Purple.

"What about Zim?"

Rob glanced over at him, then glanced back, only to have a faceful of foot as his 'juggler' dropkicked him. He fell to the ground, a neat indent in his forehead where the Tallest's foot had connected. Purple grinned and deployed his spider legs.

"I suppose Zim'll just have to find his own way out, huh?"

Zim growled and struggled against his restraints. "Backstabber! Leaving _Zim_ to rot!"

"Don't try to make me feel guilty, now - you need a good stab in the back every once in a while." With that, he blasted a hole in one of the remaining walls, and skittered out like a bat out of Hell.

The sunlight that shot in pretty much blinded him again. He started screaming obscenities at that hole, then started pulling at the restraints again with enough force as to dislocate his right shoulder. He ignored that, finally getting that arm free, then ripping the other strap off, just as Greg burst into the room, clad in scrubs and equipped with some nasty looking tools. Zim stared at him for a moment before deploying his own spider legs and and going the way Purple had, making a mental note to return for the Voot after this mess was over.

He eventually noticed a tall green, pink, and purple shape, and once he got close enough to it he pounced on it, the momentum making up for his lack of weight by sending them both rolling down into a ditch, ending up with a mad scramble to untangle one another's spider legs. Once the two were free of each other, they looked as though they were about to tangle up again, only this time on purpose. And with more fists involved.

"You bastard!" Zim barked, the first to speak. Purple snorted.

"You're not dead, are you?"

"My ship is ruined again, and in their clutches, _and_--" He pointed violently at his dislocated shoulder. "My arm hurts!"

"You did that yourself!"

"Only because _you _had to run off and _you _had to anger Zim!"

"We can go back for the damn ship! Meanwhile, I'm still on stupid Earth with you, and now we have to get that stupid other ship from the stupid human!"

"Fine, _my Tallest_--" The venom in the words would have made Purple flinch had he not been angry himself. "But how the hell do you suggest we get there, hm? We're in scenic nowhere!"

A small rodent took this moment to empty its bladder on Zim's right boot. He punted the thing away, and it flew out of sight.

A dull splat was heard moments later.

"I don't care! We'll fucking _walk_ if we have to!"

_Ssssssssssst._

"HOW THE HELL DO YOU STILL HAVE THAT THING?"

"I have pockets, idiot."

"Don't you call me an idiot, you insect!"

"Moron!"

"Amoeba!"

"Buffoon!"

"DEFECT!"

"WHINY BITCH!"

"Oh, that's it--"

"Can't take the heat, then get out of Zim's kitchen, because his stove's on FIRE!"

A pause.

The heat of the moment cooled to a dull simmer.

"No, really. I think it might be." Glancing down at himself.

Purple sighed and started climbing out of the ditch with his spider legs, retracting them once he got to the top. He noticed Zim following suit, and, once he made it to the top as well, he kicked the little Invader's spider legs so that he ended up tumbling back to the bottom, screaming obscenities one probably expected from Red. Or a sailor.

"Tsk, tsk, such language." The other said smugly, then started walking. Walking where, he didn't know. It was a sort of northernly direction.

"Come back here and face me like a man!" Zim called from inside the ditch.

Purple stopped.

"Get over here and I will!" He shot back, crossing his arms.

"I will!" A pause. "As soon as this dog lets go of my leg!"

"Just shoot the damn thing!"

A miniature explosion and a soft yelp, and Zim, smoking, landed next to his Tallest's feet. On his head.

"I did better," He said, grinning.

"You exploded it."

"Yep!"

"Stupid..." He muttered, walking off again. The little Invader jumped up, doing some kind of flippish thing so that he was on his feet, then ran after Purple and eventually caught up to him, though every once in a while he'd have to speed up because the other purposely lengthened his strides. During this time he briefly realized he'd seen that dog he exploded on TV once, maybe twice, but then he forgot as he was forced to match Purple's speed again.

Perhaps an hour later, both moving at around the same sluggish, bedraggled pace, neither wondering why they didn't just run with spider legs to civilization, and Zim broke the silence. It was a hot and sweaty silence, kind of like the desert they were walking in.

"Push me."

"Say what?" Purple really hadn't heard him.

"Push me."

"I don't wanna."

"Push me."

"Why?"

Zim frowned.

"My arm hurts."

The other glanced wearily at the dislocated shoulder, then snorted.

"You _pull_ on that, dumbass."

"Oh." A pause. "Pull me, then."

"Nope."

"Obey me, for I'm still your Tallest!"

"You don't own the _desert_ now, do you?"

"No, but I still own _you_." He smacked himself in the chest with his left fist. "I gots planet experience."

"Uh-huh, that's nice, Zim," One could literally hear all the fight drop out of Purple's voice. Damn that desert sun. It eats your brain, your hydration, and finally, your will to squabble like a married couple. Not yet the will to live - it had only been an hour, after all.

Devoid of a sparring mate, Zim slowed down a little and started pondering on how he could fix his arm in the least painful way possible. He knew now that asking his Tallest was a stupid idea, because he'd probably make it as painful as he could, just to get back at him for dishing out punishment and whatnot. Stupid brat. He glared at him, then went back to pondering over his arm. There were several ways to go about it. He decided on the most direct, bracing himself for unimaginable pain as he gripped his right wrist with his left hand.

After a bit of pulling and a LOT of screaming, the deed was done. And it hurt. Hurt like hell. Hurt enough to make him stop in his tracks and sit there, on the hardpan, rubbing at it uselessly with the other hand. Purple noticed this once he realized nothing was going on next to him, about a hundred feet away. He turned and stared at the little Irken on the ground, narrowing his eyes impatiently, despite the life-sapping desert sun.

"Come on, Zim," He called. "Suck it up."

"But it _hurts_..." Was the responding whine.

Purple sighed and wandered back that hundred feet, stopping in front of his "master" and glaring down at him. The other suddenly jumped up, crawling one-handedly up his Tallest's uniform until he ended up firmly seated on Purple's shoulders, legs around his neck to discourage him trying to throw him off. Then he went back to massaging his newly-fixed shoulder.

"I've always wanted to do that."

"You little lying--"

"No, it does hurt. I just got tired of walking."

"Who says _I_ have to keep walking?" A bit of the first-day rebellion came back into his voice.

Zim pointed up. "Them."

He looked in the direction his rider pointed, and noticed a flock of buzzards circling overhead.

"But it's only been an hour!" He protested, somewhat at the birds. They didn't notice, still circling, waiting for the Irkens to drop.

"They don't know that."

"Stupid buzzards."

A spider leg slid out of Purple's PAK behind Zim's head, then shot at one of the circling creatures. It happened to take off a wing, and since buzzards aren't well-known for flying with only one wing, it plummeted to its doom on the hard desert ground. The splat that followed after momentarily unified the Irken pair - they both laughed triumphantly at its untimely demise.

Every good thing doesn't last long.

"Giddyap, horsey," Zim said darkly, tugging on one of his steed's antennae.

"I've a mind to kill you," He growled back, but strangely enough, complied. Although "horsey"'s pace could be described as like... a sick, two-and-a-half-legged horse that's blind and deaf trying to gallop a marathon. A sick, decrepit trot. Or less. His rider noticed, of course, tugging at his antenna again, lightly kicking him in the jaw once or twice.

It... didn't work.

"Your horsey's going to _die_, " Was his overdramatic comment, approximately another hour later.

"Well... you have been getting slower..." Zim observed.

"Maybe it's because of the THING on my neck?"

"I see no thing."

"Try the eighty-pound thing that just spoke to me."

"Zim does not weigh eighty pounds." He replied proudly. "Eighty-nine, last checked."

"Oh dear Irk..."

With this almost prayer-like exclamation, Purple fell to his knees, then straight down to his face, Zim getting off in the transition. The other stared at him weirdly for a moment, then began toeing him in the head.

"Hey. Heyyyy..."

"Sweet death, take me now..."

Zim stopped toeing and straight out kicked him. He didn't move.

"Don't make me drag you through the desert by your antennae." He threatened.

Still nothing.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn-- eh?" Midway through his sentence (and the motion of gripping his Tallest's antennae, preparing to do just that), something flat and gray caught his eye. The dust and heat wave made the thing dance surreally, and he almost dismissed it. But another look, and it was still there. He dropped Purple's antennae and walked over to the thing.

His feet found the thing a bit sooner than he expected to find it, and he ended up tripping on it, face impacting with something hot, and hard, and smelled more like asphalt than hardpan...

"Issa road!" He cried, voice muffled by asphalt. "We're not dead!"

He peeled himself up off the road, in time to catch something from the motionless Tallest ten feet back. It sounded like a meek "yay", actually, although because Purple's face was still firmly set in the desert hardpan, it could have been _anything_.

"It's a road!" He repeated, then thought a moment. "Quickly, my Tallest! Show some leg!"

This earned him a very confused stare from Mr. Lumpy, who had peeled his own face off the dirt for the occasion. Just his face, though.

"What the hell, Zim?" Purple croaked. "Why me? Can't _you_ do it?"

The little Irken stared back, lifted a bit of his uniform so a little more black was visible, then dropped it back.

"I don't have that much leg. And besides, they'll probably just think you're a really ugly human woman." A pause. "Reeeeeally ugly..."

Purple just let his face drop back into the dirt. One of the aforementioned buzzards landed on his head and started pecking on it. Still laying there, another leg came up out of his PAK, and made the buzzard into a mound of feathers and smoke.

Bird explosion aside, Purple's position remained unchanged, and Zim could faintly detect the sound of a motor running... he ran over to the other and kicked him again, then tugged at his antennae, trying to motivate him to get up. The sound was getting closer, and for a brief moment Zim realized it could be that Greg human, come to take them back. But the thought slid back as his Tallest finally moved, getting on his feet and looking like a zombie. It would have to do. He nudged him a little, and almost had to drag him that last ten feet.

At the road, the owner of the sound was visible now - a semi. It was approaching fast. Purple was showing some leg, yes, but the semi wasn't slowing down at all. In fact, Zim thought it sped up a little. He wasn't about to let freedom drive by like that. He crawled up his Tallest again, now on his head, and he screamed at the approaching truck as loud as he could.

It finally stopped.

* * *

Yay for stupid filler chapters.

I hate this chapter, by the way, but as it's already done, I can't do much about it and I'm NOT rewriting it.

The part with the dog? I explained it to my sister, likening it to Lassie rescuing Timmy from a well or something. She promptly cries "OMG! You EXPLODED Lassie!" So yeah. Zim exploded Lassie.

Thank you for watching Stupid Idiot Theatre. Your regularly scheduled program will resume after this commercial break.

Blah blah blah, just review. I won't feel hurt if you hate it too.

Damn.

That rhymed.


	8. To The Wild Blue Yonder

Chapter 8: To The Wild Blue Yonder

* * *

It was later. Much later.

And finally, the Hunger-beast's roar had become a soft snarl.

Not silent, but it would do.

Black was reclining in a chair in a darkened boardroom, the table and seats empty and dusty from disuse. The only light in the room was from below, giving her a more devilish cast, as she perused the document she had taken from the drone, somehow not bothered or impaired by the lack of overhead light. She was also picking at her teeth with something that looked a lot like a bone…

The document, as it turned out, was extremely detailed schematics for a genetic infusion device. The reason someone had put WARNING at the top was because such technology was dangerous... in the wrong hands, at least. She would be sure to look out for said wrong hands, if she found them. One of her own wrong hands traced the outer rim of the drawing of the machine, the other lowering slightly with the bone-pick still in its grip.

The mark on the bottom proclaimed it Vortian property. A discovery she didn't find surprising, considering all the wonderful technology that race had already pumped out. Had she been someone else, she might have wondered how a drone could have gotten ahold of such a thing... but she was Black, and Black wasn't interested in the affairs of others, at least not now. Not yet. Perhaps when the Vortians tried to kill her, maybe.

"I wonder..." She remarked aloud, her mind having stumbled upon a thought. "It doesn't say what you can or can't infuse..."

The room echoed with her dark, sadistic, 'I kick smeets for shits and giggles' laughter.

"Of course."

Her attention wandered from the schematics in her hand to a small, unmistakably Irken skull, lying on the table with a few scraps of flesh still clinging to the bone. She smirked, then put down the document and picked it up, holding it out in a position many human actors have displayed on stage, except the next line would not be 'alas, poor Yoric', for she did not know him well.

"Thank you for your contribution to the regime," She told it in an official tone. "And, of course... your _personal_ contribution..."

* * *

"Mmyep, I collect toenails, sometimes fingernails too... sometimes they gets eaten by my pet badger, Bill..."

Purple was beginning to think dying out there in the desert wouldn't be so bad.

"...but see, Bill doesn't eat 'em 'cause he likes the taste, just the smell... they're like Fritos anyhow..."

Zim was beginning to think he probably should have just let this one drive on by.

"... do aliens like Fritos? Betcha ain't got any badgers, though, huh..."

Currently, the two were sharing the cab of the semi with a rather disgusting man who had said his name at one point, but had rambled so long afterwards neither Irken could remember or cared to. Purple had shoved himself against the door, as though about to jump out of it if their driver decided to get more personal, and Zim had shoved himself against Purple, most likely to jump out even if he didn't. The two were eyeing him a little like trapped animals, although whether he noticed this or not it was hard to tell, as he kept on talking and talking...

"Yep." He gave a greasy grin, looking at the little hula doll strapped to the console. The doll looked somewhat like the pair of Irkens - scared shitless but having nowhere to go. The difference being that the poor thing had apparently fared through countless greasy cheeseburgers, myriads of coffee spills, and judging by the fact that it only had one eye, several "accidents". They'd only been close to having heatstroke.

A few minutes went by, with the guy blessedly silent. Then he broke that silence. Damn him.

"So, tell me about yerselves." He prompted.

They exchanged a look.

"Um... we're figments of your imagination... demented hallucinations resulting from one too many beers and leftover chili beans." Zim said after a while, earning a very weird look from his Tallest. "And maybe sniffing your vile Frito-scented toenail collection."

The man seemed placated by this, somehow, nodding his greasy head in understanding.

"Aahh... I thought so. I kinda got the unreal vibe when your pal there started ta look a little like my Loretta back on the road... got the same sexay legs..."

Purple flushed a dark green and spluttered, having stolen the guy's jumbo soda sometime in this conversation.

"Speaking of that... why did you speed up before you stopped?"

"I always hated that Loretta, even though she was sexy."

"I... see."

Silence descended over the cab, broken only by Purple slurping on the soda. The Tallest was thinking of another moment in time in which the word "sexy" was used, and therefore didn't trust himself to speak, only to slurp. Said slurping was starting to get on Zim's nerves.

The man cleared his throat, then brightened, as though his greasy brain had stumbled upon a good thought. Then he let go of the wheel in order to turn around and fish something out from behind the seat. Both Irkens watched him, horrified, resisting the urge to either scream or leap over and grab the wheel. They didn't want to die, you see.

He eventually found what he was looking for - a half-empty bag of cheesepuffs. He turned back with the prize in one hand, the other on the wheel. The two sighed in relief, only to have to suck that air back in as the man offered them a singularly disgusting piece of puff.

"Cheesepuff?" He inquired.

This appeared to be too much for the little Invader.

"Emergency!" Zim screeched, leaping to his feet, coincidently onto Purple's right thigh. "Puffed cheese!" Then he kicked the door open, leaping out and tumbling down the side of the road.

Purple glanced at the man, then the cheesepuff, then leapt out after him.

"Must not like cheesepuffs," The man remarked after they had gone, the door then getting torn off by a passing Hummer. Ah, well. He needed some ventilation anyway.

The two rolled, and rolled, until Zim smacked into what appeared to be a tallish fence, lying on the ground for a minute as Purple smacked into it as well. Then he leapt up, glanced toward his Tallest for a second, then back to what he had hit. Recognition at fence and thing behind it spread across his face, and he kicked Purple in the side to alert him to his discovery.

"We're home!"

Purple groaned and rubbed his side as he staggered to his feet, narrowing his eyes at the little house.

"That was stupid," Was his verdict on the whole thing.

"Extremely," Zim agreed, then seemed to remember something. "But we still need to acquire Dib's ship."

"Acquire meaning... covert operation, or hostile takeover?"

"Covert, I'm afraid."

"Damn." It was clear Purple needed to burn some excess aggression on something.

It was a good thing they were off to Dib's house. Perhaps some of his aggression could be used to negotiate with the boy... by "negotiate with", we mean "lay the smackdown on". It would suffice to clear their rousing adventures from his head. And maybe his Tallest would be a little less whiny after he got to beat something shitless.

Zim suddenly struck an extravagant, heroish pose.

"TO THE DIB'S!"

* * *

After about thirty minutes of trailing Zim's Voot Cruiser, Dib had lost it.

He had also not gotten all that far from his own house.

Rather than pursue the ship further, he merely turned back, wandered into his room, and settled for a nap - he needed one, after all, and since Zim was doing... alien things in space, he could maybe finally rest for once. Well, he assumed he was in space. They hadn't been flying down, now had they?

After a small struggle on how he was going to get comfortable, he napped. Albeit with his ass in the air and his nose on the headboard with the covers over him like a snail, he napped. For a good three hours, at least, if not more. Then something - maybe it was his internal clock, maybe it was Zim's latent hoodoo powers, maybe it was the fact that he could smell coffee all of a sudden - caused him to jolt awake and roll into the floor with a crash, entangled in the covers and looking a bit like a confused squirrel.

He leapt to his feet, covers converted into a hooded robe. He thought he heard talking... but he couldn't be sure. Damn him and his mostly soundproof door.

He'd have to investigate the hard way.

Still wearing his "robe", he wandered down to the livingroom, then the kitchen, expecting to only see his dad having a random caffeinated moment. He didn't expect the pair of aliens he was talking to. Yes, pair. There was Zim, disguised, and one of the taller things he'd seen only once before, blatantly undisguised. They each had a coffee cup of their own, the taller one dumping at least a pound of sugar into his as the professor spoke.

What he was talking about, Dib didn't know, because as soon as he came in and gawked at this... civility, Membrane stopped and beamed at him.

"Ah, there you are, son," He said. "You've got guests."

The cover-robe dropped as Dib did as he often did in one of these types of situations - point accusingly. At the tall one now, seeing as he was obviously alien looking. "Dad! You let aliens in the house _and _gave them coffee!"

Membrane glanced at the two, then seemed to really be looking at Purple. Purple was still trying to make his coffee sugary, so Zim stepped in, first shooting a glare at the boy.

"We're no aliens," He said, then looked up at Purple, trying to think. "This is my... ah... horribly disfigured uncle."

"From Canadia." Purple added.

The professor appeared placated. "And how is Canadia?"

"...Canadian...?"

"Wonderful!" He turned to his son, who was now gawking at _him_, probably for his stupidity. "Well, you have fun now!" And with that, he skipped merrily off into his lab. The three watched this strange act until he was truly gone, then Zim turned his attention back to Dib.

"Tak's ship," He said bluntly.

"What?"

"We need Tak's ship."

"And you think I'm just gonna give it up to you?"

"It would be advisable, considering you're now the only thing between us and saving the Irken Empire," Purple stated casually, sipping a bit of his now sugar-laden coffee.

"I found it, I fixed it up, so it's mine. And as such, you can't have it without my permission. Or me."

"Why's that?"

Dib just grinned. "Try to steal it and you'll find out."

"We will. Come, my Tallest."

Purple, having finished off his coffee (without regurgitating it, strangely enough), now moved forward, peering closely at Dib. The other glared at him, trying to look all cool and standoffish, which would have had a better effect if the person he was glaring at wasn't three times his height.

"Heyyy..." Scratching beside an antenna. "Don't I know you?"

"Maybe."

"Wait a minute! I know now!" Purple moved back to his prior position with an accusing point of his own. "You're that big-headed kid! The one that called us scum and wanted to know our weaknesses and our planet's coordinates!"

Zim glanced between the two, confused and somewhat annoyed, as he hadn't been present when they had interacted.

"That's not important right now," He said meaningfully. "We've got to steal a ship."

"Wouldn't do it if I were you!" Dib called as the pair of them went out of the garage, which opened, probably because the human wanted to see just what exactly would happen to them. Zim scoffed and went up, crawling into the cockpit, only to receive a large shock and was flung out bodily. Purple didn't attempt to hide his laughter, and he could swear the ship, in Dib's voice, was laughing at him also.

"**Irken presence detected,**" The Dibship said coldly, mirth forgotten. "**Defense system activated.**"

"I knew _that_, idiot," Zim growled at it, getting to his feet.

As he was brushing off some nonexistant dirt, the ship's owner walked out, looking smug - and like he had been laughing too.

"See? I told you."

"What the hell did you do to it?"

The human patted the ship's flank fondly. "Oh, nothing - just programmed it to refuse an Irken pilot."

"So that means..."

"Wherever you're going, I have to come too."

"Can't you just reprogram it?" Zim was almost physically ill at the thought of sharing the voyage with Dib.

"Nope. 'Cause then you'll keep it. Can't have that, now can we?"

"We can, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances would those be, huh?"

"That's none of your business."

"I think it should be, since I'm gonna fly the ship."

As the two settled into an argument over whether or not Zim would reveal the information, Purple wandered over to the ship, being careful as to not touch it. It was mostly a Spittle Runner... and as such was really, really small. He had had one adventure in a tiny ship, and this one appeared to be even smaller. And he'd have to share it with a human as well as Zim. He tried not to think of what he'd have to endure, turning back to the two.

Dib blinked. Apparently, he'd won the argument. Of course, Zim hadn't had much information to start with, but he had tried to add what Purple had complained about not that long ago, and that's what made it sound... epic. A pair of Irkens off to save the Empire from an eeeeeeevil black-eye thing who apparently makes a habit of eating Irkens. Epic, or tragic, considering the odds the two would actually defeat her.

Which would be a million to one.

"Kid," Purple said suddenly, drawing Dib's attention to him. "Just in case you're not... persuaded enough..."

Then he leant down and whispered into his ear, tone lowered enough that the other Irken couldn't hear him. The look on the boy's face made Zim very, very suspicious - it was like a puppy at the prospect of food.

"Really?"

"Really."

"My Tallest..." The Invader interrupted. "What exactly did you just tell him?"

"Nothing," Purple said innocuously, as Dib ran over and crawled into the cockpit, taking up a lot of the space by himself. The thing was built for one, and it was built for speed, not passenger space.

"Nothing my ass," Zim muttered.

The Tallest ignored him. "Umm... I think there ought to be some kind of seating arrangement.."

Dib glanced up, then stared at him, then at the ship around him.

"You're not gonna fit..."

"Nonsense!" He went over and pulled the boy bodily out of the ship, jumping into the seat, then thunking Dib on his lap before the ship could take defensive action. "It worked once, it'll work again."

"Says you." Said Zim, crawling into the ship afterward, sitting on Purple's right leg, Dib on his left. Being human, the boy felt a lot more uncomfortable in this situation than the other two, but it was too late, as he'd automatically pressed the button that sealed the ship. The hatch went down, smacking Purple in the back of the head, causing the situation to be even more cramped.

"This... isn't how I envisioned it." That was only a half-lie - he'd imagined it being more cramped.

"My Tallest! You're squishing my head!"

"Whose foot is this?"

"That would be yours, idiot! Now fly us out of here!"

"Hiya, masta!" GIR cried, popping up from behind them. All three jumped, ending up in Purple getting another concussion. Whatever breathing space there had been it had been ruined by the little robot's appearance, as he leapt into Zim's lap, making sure to hit all three heads on the way down.

"GIR." Zim growled. "Get out of the ship."

He ignored him, giggling madly.

"Oh, great. Two morons _and _a psychotic robot. My day has been made."

"My Tallest, please shut up."

"Yeah. It's hard to concentrate."

"Concentrate? Just press the damn buttons! It's not that hard!"

"I've got your stupid Tallest breathing down my neck and your foot in my face! Of course it's hard!"

"Hey!" The Irkens chorused, then more wriggling and shifting ensued.

They were all pushed back as Dib finally found whatever button started up the ship, and then whatever button caused it to jolt into the air, whizzing along like a cannonball from the main gun turret in Hell. Unfortunately for them, the boy had not thought about G force when he was working on the ship, and so the compensators were disabled, making the ride quite a bit more... squishy. Yes. That's a perfect word.

"We're going to die!" One of them yelled, probably Purple.

And they flew like mofos out of the atmosphere, to parts and regions unknown...

* * *

Stupid broken alert system.

Stupid school.

Stupid geometry.

Review, please.


	9. Food!

Chapter 9: Food!

* * *

In this universe, there are about three things that are guaranteed to knock down your respected level.

One is being publicly humiliated.

Two is betraying your race for some awesome supernatural powers or other junk like that that turns around and bites you in the ass, even if it did make you 'hella cool'.

And the third...

"Welcome to Shloogoorgh's, may I take your order. And order fast. I've got a headache."

...is working at a fast food restaurant.

While some people strangely enough are held in esteem for this, after such a position as the Tallest, ruler of the Empire and all that jazz... it's kind of a step down. Way down. Deep down into the dank abyss of unrespecthood. Young alien children laughed at him. Except for that weird pointing kid.. he wanted to strangle that kid. No real reason why, just something to kill that couldn't fire him.

It hadn't been a conscious decision to work at a fast food joint. In fact, when he'd come here, he had been dead. A deactivated corpse lying amidst the usual trash and waste products that went into certain things on the menu. Some of the workers had been combing through, looking for something of use, and there he had been. Rather than chunk him into a cremator, or adding him to the menu, they had reactivated him and quickly hired him before his brain could even register what had happened.

And now, here he was. Tallest Red, burger slave. Or dish bitch, depending.

Because this was an Irken-run restaurant, his "rescuers" had recognized him and everything - but this was _after_ Black's announcement had been made, and as he had indeed been dead, they had decided he was better off flipping patties than going back to perhaps dethrone her. They had given him something to wear over his undersuit (as Black had stolen his Tallest uniform, damn her) as well as the standard greasy uniform thing, and while he adamantly refused to wear the hat, he had accepted the goggles. By just looking at him, you would have a hard time recognizing him as Tallest Red, former ruler of the Irken Empire.

The thing he was talking to was an old haggy Vortian, still deliberating over her next meal. Behind her, the line had gotten longer, and extremely edgy.

"Ummm... weellll..."

Red narrowed his eyes behind his goggles.

"Might I suggest the Mush Surprise, ma'am."

"Oh! I'll take that. And make it extra large, 'cause my grandson's eating with me today."

"Fascinating." He turned, and a little of the old authority drifted into his voice. "Gashloogh! You heard the woman!"

A tray of stuff nearly rammed into his head, flying out from the back, but in the week he'd been here he'd learned never to stay still when cashiering. The hag followed it to a seat which had a remarkably familiar Vortian already occupying it. Goggles, blue jumpsuit... really alarmed look when he noticed Red's gaze... before he could figure out where he'd seen the male before, some other geek came up, and the natural normalcy of breakneck speed continued.

"Oh, Irk, just let them all die of grease-poisoning already..." He muttered, letting his hands go on autopilot. "Save me some trouble..."

"Now now, you shouldn't be so _negative_ - the customers are the lifeblood of this establishment and as such each and every one should be treated with care..."

Through the corner of his eye, he noticed a weird looking creature emerging from another room now - one of those "human" thingies Zim kept going on about. He came up to about chest height on Red, had messy black hair, an earring in one ear, and this little scruff of a goatee. And of course, the regulation manager "I scare little kids and small animals" happy grin. He was wearing a plain white shirt, a really dumb-looking and brightly colored tie, gray slacks, and he had a name tag that proclaimed him as... damn, it had a smudge, and he highly doubted the man's name would be "Ducky".

Of course, judging by Zim's description of them, humans might be stupid enough to call themselves Ducky.

"Who the hell are you?" A pause. "And where's Sizz-Lorr?"

"Hi! I'm Mr.Dwicky, the new manager!" He said happily, thrusting a hand at him to shake. Red glared at it, being that both his hands were taking orders as the filtered through the noise and the man's annoying voice. "About him..." Pertaining to Sizz-Lorr. "He went crazy 'cause of some incident involving somebody escaping again... he's over there."

Red's eyes followed Dwicky's pointer finger, and noticed a shuddering mass of Irken in the back corner. He appeared to be muttering to a beach ball with a face on it that he hoped was made out of ketchup and _not _blood, and the only words he could hear were "Zim" and "Winston". This last was because, as some person walked past him, they accidentally kicked the beach ball and sent it rolling away, upon which Sizz-Lorr screamed in an anguished voice, "WINSTON! NOOOO!!" and promptly began muttering and shaking again, left eye twitching.

"Poor thing," Dwicky tutted, then turned back to Red. "Kind of like my counselor days... only the last crazy kid I dealt with wasn't _that_ crazy and--"

"Dwicky." Red interrupted. "Stop. Talking."

"You can't speak to your superior like that."

"I feel particularly superior today."

"Now, Red..."

"Or maybe I'm simply writhing in untold agonies of having to resist strangling each and every living, breathing thing in this establishment."

"...that sounds painful."

"It's supposed to. Go away. Let me earn my meager paycheck."

Dwicky went, and he had a feeling he would stay away for at least an hour or two. But his own words had him worried. He was starting to even _sound_ like a burger slave... actually, a burger slave that's worked for more than a week, which made it worse.

The flood of hungry people subsided a little, letting his mind wander... and then this Irken came up. Short, hyper-looking, male - first one he'd seen since he'd started. And he was looking at him funny. Red looked back at him, waiting. It was almost a standoff. Then the shorter one spoke.

"You... look familiar."

"Of course I do." He replied brusquely. "May I take your order."

The little Irken appeared to not have heard him, craning his neck as to get a better look. "Seriously, though. I swear I've seen you somewhere before... have you ever been on TV?"

"No. Are you going to order or not?"

"Something cooler then?"

"Just order already!"

"Kind of like the--"

Red snapped, though not realizing the other had been about to say exactly what he had been before they had reactivated him. Not completely snapped, as that would probably end up with one less restaurant on Foodcourtia. Just... his daily sanity count had reached its limit.

"This is a fucking _restaurant_! Not a quiz show! You make demands for food, I give you your Irk-damned food _and you_ _go away_! YOU DON'T STAND HERE PLAYING TWENTY QUESTIONS WITH THE CASHIER!" This was punctuated by slamming of his fist into the keypad before him, which sent up a shower of sparks, the extra light making him look quite a bit more manic than he already did.

The other Irken looked paralyzed. The rest of the place had gone silent (save Sizz-Lorr, still muttering and rocking), staring weirdly at him.

"Now that that's out of my system," Red said in a significantly calmer and somewhat cheerier voice. "May I take your order?"

Two seconds later, the poor kid screamed and ran out of the door. The customers watched him, then looked back at Red, a mixture of disdain and alarm on their faces. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed Dwicky emerging out of his hidey-hole again and wondered if he could possibly get fired for just blowing up at a customer. He hoped he would.

"Can I have a word with you? In private?" He said in his "counselor" voice.

Red shrugged and wandered out of his station. 'In private' meant two steps away from the counter and in plain sight of all the customers.

"That wasn't very nice."

"So?"

"Thirty minutes."

"What?"

"You get a thirty minute break. You need one, apparently."

The other sighed. "And here I thought you were going to say 'thirty minutes to get your ass out of my restaurant'."

"Don't tell me this is an attention thing..."

Red ignored him and walked out, severely missing his hoverbelts and the sheer hell of floating about a foot above the disgusting, probably diseased ground. Too much damn walking he'd had to do after coming back to life, and while he wasn't as soft as Purple, it was still something to get used to. Oh well. He knew where he was going, at least.

Foodcourtia didn't just have fast food joints. It also was home to several hundred bars. No, not bars like gold bars, bars like booze. All the time. The Foodening didn't appear to affect the bars, though the cause was unknown as of now. Perhaps they had regulated gravity. Perhaps their food sucked enough ass as to keep the hungry people away and the people looking to get sauced in.

It was one of these bars Red was heading to. It was kind of a dump, compared to some of the other ones, but he could care less.

"Strongest thing you got," He said once he'd seated himself, unfortunately still wearing his Shloogorgh's uniform. The bartender didn't appear to care, as he just bent down and pulled out a tank of something that looked suspiciously like engine fuel.

"That would be this."

"Lay it on me." The other said simply. "Hopefully in one of your largest containers."

"Somebody die?" The bartender asked as he obeyed.

"Yeah."

"Really? Who?" This was pure curiosity.

Red took the enormous mug of "stuff" and took a deep chug, scowling at either the question or the taste.

"Me."

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"...Are we there yet?"

"No."

"...Are we--"

"NO DAMMIT NOW SHUT UP!"

There's a time in every epic voyage where the heroes get bored. Honestly. It always happens, if not always shown. And for our happy fun sardine-packed crew of sort-of-kind-of-not-really heroes, the voyage had hit that point approximately one hour after they had left Earth's atmosphere.

And what's worse than being bored? Being bored and packed into a ship with about enough elbow room for an amoeba.

The person inquiring as to their position was Zim, who was also taking up the _riveting_ sport of poking the pilot in the side of the head with one claw. Obviously, the one who was yelling back was Dib, being poked and trying NOT to turn around and smack the alien one, because that would mean his hands would be off the "wheel", and he didn't want to crash them into some floating space debris just because he couldn't handle a bored Irken poking him in the head. But that claw was sharp. And he hadn't stopped after he'd been yelled at.

By the way, only three out of four were actually still suffering from boredom, as GIR had succumbed to it and fallen asleep behind the one seat, for once peaceful and not annoying.

"I'm hungry," Purple whined moments later.

"Tough noodles," Zim and Dib chorused, both in the same zombie-like tone.

"Did you have to say noodles?"

"Yes. Be silent now."

And it was. For about a minute, with Zim still poking Dib's head. But then Purple found something else to complain about.

"Zim... your antenna's in my face. Move it."

"You move your face then."

A moment, then the sound of someone's teeth being imbedded in someone else's antenna. His right one, actually. And of course, said someone shrieking loudly and instinctively kicking his Tallest's head - it was _right there_. Can't blame him.

It didn't appear to affect Purple, as he had about the same expression as before. "I'm hungry, remember?" He restated. Zim had a feeling there was a different reason than just that...

But then he was interrupted by Dib.

"Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Zim echoed, frowning and rubbing his antenna. "You didn't just say 'uh-oh'. Uh-oh is bad."

The boy sank down a little and whined softly, like a dog, legs twined tightly together.

"We gotta make a pit stop."

"What--" The smaller Irken finally got it, and a look of disgust crossed his face. "Humans and their bodily functions!"

"Can't you just hold it?" Purple added, getting it two seconds later than Zim.

Dib gave a sarcastic smirk. "Oh, _fine_. I'll hold it. I'll hold it as long as I can." A pause. "On your lap."

Purple deliberated this for perhaps a millisecond before reflecting Zim's look and groaning.

"Fine, make a pit stop. But make it quick."

The other let out a happy squee and steered the ship toward what appeared to be a hovering convenience store slash gas station, with a few ships already docked at the fueling area. The Spittle squeezed in neatly between the ship equivalent of the semi Zim and Purple had rode to Zim's house in and something that looked a lot like a fighter ship - sleek and black with a purple Irken insignia on the side. Purple, noticing it, had to stop himself from saying aloud, 'pretty'.

Once the hatch flung open and Dib leapt out, making a little pee-pee dance, he turned and tried to command his companions without wetting himself.

"You guys get some snacks and refuel the ship," He said, then darted into the store area.

"I hope it's not pre-pay," Purple muttered, and then scowled as Zim left him to do the second order.

Inside, the place looked a lot like an Earth convenience store - and those by themselves were weird as it was. Food aisles right next to ship parts, weird shit and souvenirs, drinks at the back -- it took Dib a while to find what he was looking for: a pair of grungy blue doors. The signs above them were in some alien language, but the universal man and woman signs were there, so he ran off to the men's just as Zim found the snack aisle.

"The least they could do was have a better taste in music," The Irken remarked to himself, antennae full of lousy country music as he went through, picking up whatever looked sweet and Irken-friendly. Well, some that didn't, but he supposed whatever they wouldn't eat they could feed to the Dib. Maybe he would die from food poisoning. Oh wait, nevermind - food poisoning made humans projectile vomit first, then shit like a waterfall, and they couldn't take such damage in such a small space.

Laden with so much snack food that one couldn't even see him anymore (the aisles were looking kind of bare, but it turns out those were self-replenishing, so it's all good), he waddled over to the counter, manned by one fat greasy blob-alien with a unibrow and a cigar sticking out of his mouth. Already at the counter was some other alien, which he couldn't see over the food, as he'd seen the cashier when he'd walked in.

And the other alien was taking his time.

"Hmmm... are these low-fat?" It asked, voice androgynous.

The cashier-blob just grunted.

"Hurry up," Zim growled behind his load.

The other didn't appear to hear him, so he began his trademark "hey"s (you know, one every couple of seconds, mixed in with a "move it" or "hurry up"). He was still doing this when Purple wandered in, glancing at Zim for a moment before walking over to the booze aisle. As if they needed a sauced Tallest on a long flight.

Finally his predecessor left, and with difficulty, he chunked all of the snacks onto the counter.

"Paper, plastic, or other?" The blob said, ringing it up as he spoke.

"I think this should cover it," Purple said, having appeared out of nowhere, pretty much. He handed over a little card that had the Irken military symbol on it, all holographic and gold-tinted and shiny - his Tallest card. "Best of all," To Zim. "I won't get charged - it goes to the _current _Tallest."

Zim grinned. "I have an idea."

The next few minutes was spent finding random other shit to put on Black's tab - alcohol for Purple, rocket boosters and LED lights and other cool stuff like that for the Dibship, and the oddest souvenirs they could find, including a snowglobe of Blorch that sprinkled little fake fire bits rather than snow onto the rats' snarling heads. Including the fuel for the ship... that was a lot of monies.

Around then Dib had finished with his business, and stared at his shipmates' shenanigans with his jaw on the floor.

"You... what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to cripple the filthy throne stealer financially."

"With stuff from a convenience store?" Dib frowned. "It's not going to work."

"No, but it might slow her down."

The human shrugged, not about to argue with that logic. He went over to the aisles that had replenished themselves and picked out a six-pack of soda and a pack of the alien equivalent of M&M's. Noticing the look he got from the Irkens, he explained, "Unlike you two, I'm too young to drink."

Then they found the next hurdle, after the blob had bagged all their crap and they were heading outside, forcing Purple to carry all of it.

"There's no way all of that's gonna fit in the ship."

"Tak should have installed compartments in it, right? We'll find a way."

"But what about the boosters and flashy thingies?"

"Those go _on_ the ship. There's a mechanic over there."

Ten minutes later, with the Dibship tricked out and the work also charged to Black, they finally decided it was time to find somewhere to put their snacks. Dib opened the hatch, letting the other two peer around for anything that looked remotely like some secret compartment while he looked on the outside. It ended up with a lot more of the stuffing on Dib's part, as Zim and Purple appeared to have stopped moving mid-stuff.

The cause was evident.

"Gaz?"

She pointed at one of the compartments the Irkens had overlooked.

"Great. One more person." Purple groaned, shoving snacks into the compartment she'd pointed out. "There's no room for another person..."

The girl paused her game to fix the other with a trademark glare. "Make room." She said. "Because I didn't ride in that smelly little secret hole or whatever all this way just to be stranded on some convenience store in space."

"Why exactly were you in there, anyway?" Dib asked.

"That's for me to know, and for you not to find out." She growled, going back to her game.

Despite the 'I'm going to gouge your eyes out if you look at me the wrong way' vibe she was giving off, Purple had a mind to toss her out of the ship. She'd have to get up anyway - he was supposed to be sitting there. As though she heard his thoughts she got up, moving to where GIR had been - behind the seat..

They piled in, snacks busting out of compartments and making it even more uncomfortable, and about half an hour later Zim realized his robot was missing.

"Hey... where's GIR?"

"I tied him to the roof," Gaz answered absently.

On the roof, GIR was screaming and laughing madly, having the time of his little robot life. If there was air in space, you would have heard his loud "WHEEEEEEEEE" all across the galaxy, if not the universe.

"Oh." Zim said, and the ride was silent, save the sounds of the game, which were rather annoying.

Approximately an hour or two later, and that earlier scene of unimaginable boredom was repeating itself - except Zim hadn't even the energy to poke Dib's head, but just wiggle his claw in its general direction, just close enough to still bother him. Purple was mindlessly munching on their "rations" and dropping crumbs all over the two in his lap, mainly Dib, who was steadily reaching his own daily sanity limit.

GIR's screaming laughter cut short with a metallic thunk above.

"Hey, Zim," Purple said unenthusiastically, swallowing the latest mouthful of alien Twinkie. "Your robot just died."

The smaller Irken just went on wiggling his claw, unmoved. "Oh? Pity."

"Shut up," Even Gaz appeared to be bored, if that was possible.

Wiggle. Wiggle.

Dib's left eye twitched. A warning for what was to come.

"THAT'S IT!" He shrieked, turning away from his piloting duties to tackle Zim, which wasn't hard - a violent shift. And fists. Purple dropped his Twinkie in shock, surprise, and a sudden horrified realization of what _else _was occurring while the boy took out some pent up frustration.

No one was flying the ship.

"_FUUUUUCK!_"

* * *

It was finished.

Test subjects - that is to say, Irken shells - were already readied for use.

All it needed were some genes.

The 'it' was her genetic infusion device, which was more of a machine than a device, and a great hulking thing at that. It made a proud centerpiece, at least, the room dominated by its metallic presence. Hell, it almost intimidated _her_. Almost. It had the workers that built it quite scared, and while under normal circumstances such fear would distract her, her focus was the machine and only the machine. The machine itself took up pretty much all the space of the room, save a thirty foot walkway in front of it, and the room itself wasn't small, built for the machine by the blueprints' maximum specifications.

Thick cables securely bonded it to ceiling and floor, and you could easily tell the monstrosity was empty because of the windows, three large circular ones on its front above what appeared to be a doorway (but it wasn't, unless you wanted to be drowned in "stuff", being as it was an escape valve). It had another valve, smaller, at the back, and it seemed to have tentacles, cables that looked out of place but were really for the infusion - and probably the extraction as well.

Her plan was simple, at the moment. This thing would extract her genes, and then she would turn around and infuse them into the bodies. At least, it had sounded simple. But a look at those massive cables... even she had her doubts, preposterous as it may seem. But she didn't build this thing for it to rot inside Irk, now did she?

"Start it up." She told a drone, and he obeyed. The thing's windows gained a greenish glow, its innards growling softly in the mechanical equivalent of her own Hunger-beast. It was a beautiful sound.

"Begin the extraction."

The same drone pressed some buttons on a stand-alone keypad beside it, and the cable-tentacles wriggled to life as Black stepped onto a platform in front of it, which raised up about a foot. Whatever doubts she had had were erased not by the success of the machine, but of a bolt of incredible pain as it attached itself to her chest. The culprit of that pain were little pointed cables within the cable, which then began to basically suck the life out of her.

The drone went to shut the machine off, noticing the pain it caused, but she let out a dark incomprehensible snarl that may have not been words. It stopped him dead in his tracks and he just watched. They all watched. They noticed as her form appeared to shift for a moment, trying to become something else. They noticed her body going completely black for half a second and then returning to its proper state.

Then, when the windows were half full, she growled at the drone: "Stop the extraction, but don't shut off the machine."

He obeyed, looking a bit worried, and the cable fell off her chest, slithering back to its prior position as she staggered off the platform (which wasn't done lowering yet) and fell to her knees in front of the machine. A trickle of what appeared to be black blood slid down her chin, others like it seeping through her claws as they held her chest as though her heart was about explode out of it. One of the medical drones she had had on standby, just in case, rushed forward.

Black pushed the other away before she could reach her, smirking and pulling herself to her feet. She licked away the blood on her chin, wiping it off her uniform with a casual swipe, features unchanged as she turned and went over to the bodies, placing one on the platform as it rose again.

"Begin the infusion," She commanded.

The drone hesitated.

"Do it, or it's YOU I give to the machine."

He squeaked and obeyed, and one of the massive cables descended upon the shell, through its PAK as she had put it on its stomach. For a while it pumped genetic material into it without result, and then one of the claws twitched. Then it sat up, the drone turning off the infusion without being told, as that body looked quite alive now. The spots on its PAK had gone black, just like her own.

"It's a success," She breathed, hovering closer to the thing - the _zombie_, which is what it was. It leapt off the platform and stood before her, eyes her own shade of ebony, only dull with death. It saluted, and the look on her face was almost maternal. "The first of many." She turned to the drones. "Infuse the whole lot. Find more shells. We'll make an army of them. A new armada, size rivaling the _living_ Irken one - only stronger, and _completely_ loyal, uninhibited by thinking or feeling, uninhibited by pain or weakness -- you chop their heads off and on they go again!"

"My Tallest... you're ranting." Someone said.

She flashed the speaker a dark grin, one that said she was too pleased to be angry at him, which was lucky for him.

That was when someone else stepped into the room. One of her advisors - one of the ones she had stolen from the other two. It was a meek one, with purple eyes downcast as he approached, holding something... papery. She couldn't see what exactly it was until the advisor was right next to her and was handing it up to her.

She snatched it from him and scanned it, eyes narrowing with every figure.

This was a bill.

This was a credit card bill.

This was a credit card bill charged to herself and the Empire.

But mainly herself.

"Two hundred Twinkies? Nine hundred donuts? _A ship overhaul?!_"

The advisor shrank down a little, antennae pinned. "It, um, came about an hour ago... when the thing wasn't exactly done... and I didn't really want to bother you, so..." He forced himself to stop talking, noticing her look.

She let out an enraged cry and ripped the paper, which touched the floor and whose end nearly touched her magnificent machine, into tiny confetti-looking pieces, scattering them over the advisor and anyone who was close. An overreaction, of course, one she easily acknowledged and after which attempted to regain some composure.

"Well," She said. "This only makes a small dent in the Empire's funds, and so the zombie army plan can continue. Whoever the hell they were, they probably shouldn't have tried that from a convenience store."

The others in the room nodded solemnly, then jumped as she yelled at them.

"What are you waiting for?! Fetch me some shells!"

"Yes, my Tallest!" The room chorused.

* * *

Woo. 13 HTML pages.

Red makes his wonderful food-related entrance! Yay! Betcha thought he died, huh? Huh?

Roadtrips are bad. Especially if it's in space.

Winston... well... look up Stranded or something or other...

Black had a funny moment. Sort of. And she got her first zombie!

The Tallest card is a product of mine and DS', so you can't use it without our permission. The "device" is also mine. So no touchy that, either.

Review, yo.


	10. Nineteen

Chapter 10: Nineteen

* * *

He felt sick.

Sick, cold, and empty.

He couldn't think properly, his brain overloaded from shock - stuck on the thing that caused the overload. Nineteen. The nineteenth kill...the nineteenth life he'd taken... the one he actually remembered killing, mutilating with his own claws... and she hadn't even deserved it... he didn't think any of them deserved it. He couldn't remember any of the other eighteen, but he was sure they didn't deserve it.

But what if they had?

What if...

His mind filled with these thoughts, he stood trembling amongst others of his kind, wishing they would go away so he wouldn't end up killing them as well. They ignored him, a tallish male with eyes the color of grape juice, wearing a wine-colored trainee uniform, holding what appeared to be a stuffed Irken doll to his chest as though it was the only thing keeping him from fainting. They ignored him, brushing past so they could stand a little closer to the stage, intrigued by their new Tallest's second announcement.

He had followed them without listening, letting his feet move him off the transport from Darmok and into the crowd on Irk as he just trembled and hugged the doll to his chest, a doll that had blood droplets on its head and streaks on its sides, blood that was nearly dry because of how long it had taken the transport to get here, blood that had been on his hands, blood that had been inside his friend...

Squishy. Poor Squishy. Squishy had almost loved him, if that was possible for the Irken breed.

He already knew he was Defective because he thought of it that way, but he didn't care, nor did he care that these thoughts, this recurring spiral was causing the crowd around him to blur, tears stubbornly staying inside the orbs until someone carelessly bumped into him and nearly knocked the doll from his grasp, where the panic from almost losing it caused them to bubble out and down his cheeks, upon which he let his head drop so the others wouldn't see, as if they even cared in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Squishy..." He whimpered to the doll, earning a few concerned glances from the others Irkens around him, glances that he couldn't see nor feel. "It wasn't me... I swear it wasn't me..."

The doll's cold gaze appeared to forgive him... just in time for his antennae to catch something from the real world. He wouldn't have heard it, had it not been a poisonous voice, lancing through the airwaves.

"Citizens, soldiers, whatever you are," Said the voice. "The project is finished, and the initial test run has been a success."

He lifted his head in order to see the speaker, and saw without surprise it was Tallest Black, standing on stage with a mass of black-eyed Irkens behind her. The Irkens' eyes were... wrong, somehow. As though they were dead. This pushed the shock back just a little, enough for him to put the doll carefully into his PAK, standing a little straighter and wiping his eyes so he wouldn't stand out from the crowd.

"Now I will need a living test subject. It works on the dead, but if it doesn't work on one of you, the hard work will be for naught."

No one volunteered. No one asked what she wanted them for. No one asked what the project was. He wasn't about to make himself the only one and so he remained still and silent as they were.

On stage, a platform rose up, and on it was this enormous machine. It looked more like a monster than a machine, with its three half-black windows like disapproving eyes, 'mouth' grimacing at them, and the cables that extruded from it like long, wicked tentacles. Black had raised the thing up and was not at all intimidated by it, even though it easily dwarfed her. The dead-eyed Irkens behind it remained still.

"No volunteers?" She asked, sounding a little disappointed. "Guess I'll have to manually pick someone."

From where he was standing he couldn't really see where her eyes scanned - until they pinpointed him. He felt them, more than saw them.

"You."

"M-me...?" His voice tumbled out in a squeak and he stupidly pointed at himself as he spoke.

"Yes, you."

He almost ran the other way, but her eyes had hypnotized him. They beckoned him forward, and he obeyed, half-running up to the stage, trying not to hit anyone as he couldn't take their aggression right now - who knew what he might do. Luckily for him, her selection of him made them make wide berths for him, as though her look was a disease.

Closer to their Tallest, he noticed she looked a little like he did - blanched, weak, as though she had the life sucked out of her. But unlike him, she wasn't succumbing to this state of weakness, as her grip was like iron when she dragged him over to the little platform in front of the machine, brusquely turning him around so that his back faced it and he could easily see the others' stares.

"What's your name, dear?" She purred, voice like sugar-coated acid.

"G-Gris, my Tallest." Voice a choked whisper.

Black turned to the others as a drone started up the machine behind him. "Gris will be the first of many hybrid soldiers, infused with my glorious genes. If it doesn't work... well, I'll have to pick someone else."

_If it doesn't work..._

"Hybrid? But aren't you Irken too?"

"I'm a different kind. A _special_ kind." She flashed the one questioner a grin that may have been able to scar a newborn smeet for life. Then she turned back to Gris and the machine, and her gaze was directed over his head, at a drone.

"Begin the infusion."

There was a brief moment where he could have cried out, could have told them to stop. But he didn't. Or wouldn't. Something rammed into his back, attaching itself to his PAK, and the pain after that was unimaginable.

The other Irkens watched as he writhed on the cable like a worm on a hook, actually screaming in pain. When his eyes were open they could see them slowly turning from grape-juice to black, just like hers, and his face turned a similar sick gray-green as Black's as well. His PAK remained unchanged, as it had no spots to turn black. But other than that, they couldn't see why it was hurting him. They couldn't see what was happening inside... _changing _inside.

It was almost too much to watch, because he sounded like someone was stabbing him... and then he went silent. Went limp. Black frowned and turned to the drone, commanding him to stop the infusion. The cable popped off his PAK and he fell to the floor, landing facedown with a loud splat.

He looked quite dead.

"Hmm... that probably shouldn't have happened..." She remarked, hovering closer to the limp male.

As she was about to turn back to the others, probably to pick a new one or tell them they'd have to wait a bit for some adjustments to be made to the infusion device, Gris' left antenna twitched. Then his right. Then his arms slowly moved into a position where he could peel himself off the floor, staggering to his feet. The look on his face was quite unlike the meek little Irken who had come up here practically against his will. A grin that seemed to almost split his head was plastered there, black eyes glinting with madness.

Black's initial thought of this as a failure quickly changed. To her, this creature was a beautiful success... but he needed a new name. He was no longer the Irken Gris, as one could plainly see.

"What would you like to be called?" She asked, seeing as she was really bad at naming things.

The hybrid appeared to put deep thought into it, grin faltering for only a moment. Then he suddenly launched into a fit of crazed laughter, which he eventually calmed himself down from. The reason for the mirth was unknown, of course, to anyone but him. His eyes now had not only the light of madness, but that of a human child at Christmas.

"Xix! X-I-X! Nineteen!" He yelled. And then laughed again.

"Okay, Xix it is." She said, not at all phased by this behavior. "Show them what you are now capable of."

"Yes, Mother," He purred, to which Black flinched, but he didn't seem to notice.

His body went all black, eyes a pair of soulless white globs, and then he dropped into the floor, re-emerging from his Tallest's shadow, becoming material again. Then he changed his features so that he looked like one of the random Irkens in the crowd - right down to the uniform. When he returned to his prior form, she made a 'ta-da' type gesture at him.

"A new generation." She said proudly.

"Whatever you _say_, Mother," Xix agreed, and laughed.

* * *

Red had always prided himself on having a high liquor tolerance.

However, despite this tolerance, he'd only had two mugs of the fuel-looking stuff, and he was already quite sauced.

And rambling.

"I had an Empire once, y'know," He drawled, pushing the mug back to the bartender to get even MORE stuff. "But then... shumbitch shtole it... an' I died..."

"Why don't you get it back?" The barkeep said, meaning it as just a casual statement.

The other froze, eyes lighting up behind his Shloogorgh's goggles. "That's a great idea!" He yelled, jumping off the bar stool, only to stumble and fall flat on his ass. But he soon recovered, jumping up again. "That's exactly what I'll do! Show her!" And he fled, but first draining the newly refilled mug.

The bartender sighed and shrugged. Why did he always get the weird ones?

Red ran through the streets of Foodcourtia a lot like he would in a vehicle - swerving about and nearly hitting things. He knew exactly where he was going, despite his intoxication. He had heard of the way Zim had escaped this place the second time, and he supposed what worked for that stupid little Defect would work for someone as awesome as himself.

The Snacky Cab building soon appeared before him, and he stumbled inside, looking around for a cab that didn't have anyone in it. Once he found it he pounced on it, taking a moment to realize he was trying to get in it wrong and correcting himself, starting it up and flying it out. It looked like a little drunken bee, the way he flew it, but at least he hadn't hit anything yet.

Best of all, because the Foodening wasn't until two weeks from now, his cab wouldn't explode for no apparent reason.

Inside the thing he finally tossed off his Shloogorgh's uniform, which he then dropped out of the ship like a bomb. The garments fluttered back to their rightful home, right on top of Mr. Dwicky's head. Red laughed drunkenly at him as he passed and eventually maneuvered the cab out of the atmosphere, then he shed the ratty old thing covering his undersuit, which was actually rather sufficient if somewhat "sexy", shifting into a leather-like material and all..

He was still laughing when he hit another ship, and another, the little drunken bee smacking around anything that was metal and moved. And some that weren't metal but still moved. And some that were neither.

"So long, suckers!" He cried, holding up a small half-full bottle of a more tame drink - whiskey. "I've got a kill to ass and nobody's gonna stop me!"

* * *

In some other part of this wild and wacky void named space, our "heroes" have encountered the local po-po.

That is to say, intergalactic law inforcement.

"Boys, you know how much one of these babies cost to repair?"

By 'encountered' we mean 'crashed into the ship of', and by 'the local po-po', we mean 'a bad-ass looking alien'.

Said bad-ass looking alien was floating outside their ship, his breed or something or other making him immune to the effects of space on heads and breathing apparatuses. He looked as though he were writing them a ticket. And with every exchange, he would scribble something on it.

Dib, meanwhile, was banging his head on the controls, probably for being stupid. Or to knock himself out.

"Umm.. a lot?" Purple offered.

The alien gave a cold grin and nodded, speaking in a tone that one usually gives to retards and children. "Yes, a lot."

Zim grabbed Dib by the hair in order to stop him from beating his head further, seeing as he was pretty much the only one to fly them out of this - Gaz was too busy playing her game even now. She probably wouldn't take the wheel. And because Irkens can't fly it... they would be in deeper shit.

The cop noticed this and really looked over the practical murderers of his ship.

"What exactly are you, anyway?"

"We're Irkens." Purple said, before Zim could launch into a self-glorifying rant.

"Okay... and what about those two?" Pointing to Dib and Gaz.

"Humans."

"Hew-mans? Never heard of those..." He scratched his head with the pencil-hand. "Are they some kind of pet?"

Zim grinned. "Why yes. Yes they are."

The other fixed him with a dark, disapproving glare. "And you're letting your _pet--_" Jabbing a finger at Dib, "fly the ship? No wonder it had such a lousy flight. I'm amazed you got anywhere at all."

Dib glared at first the cop, and then Zim, as the cop wrote down something else. Purple smacked the smaller Irken in the back of the head, seeing as his decision to label Dib a pet cost them even more monies.

"And this thing - it's practically a lethal weapon!" Pointing to GIR.

"Let's go again!" Cried the robot.

"Oh, that's just GIR. She tied him to the roof to make room."

"That's still child endangerment."

Wordlessly, Purple reached over the duo's heads and held out his Tallest card. The cop took it, frowning slightly.

"Charges the _current _Tallest. See, it's still paying the ticket, without actually paying it..." Zim trailed off and ducked before he got smacked again, only to be smacked by Dib. Clearly, it was 'target Zim's head day' today. "It also pays for the damages to your ship."

The cop's frown deepened, and there was a frightening moment where they thought he wouldn't take the bait, leaving them with a debt that would probably haunt them for the rest of their lives. But then he sighed in defeat, handing it back to Purple after sliding it on the keypad next to his ticket pad. "Sneaky, but nothing says it won't work. Go on then, boys. And girl. And lethal weapon." With that he hovered over to where the Dibship had practically gutted the cop's ship (which did look rather expensive, and pretty), separating the two with a wrench and a kick. No, not the metal kind of wrench.

Emphatic, our quintet went.

When the wreckage of the cop's ship was behind them, Gaz was the one to break the silence.

"You do realize, if you keep using that thing, this Black character will trace it back to you," A slight smirk faintly registered on her lips. "And probably kill you. That should be enjoyable."

Purple blinked. He hadn't thought of that.

"Well, she hasn't yet!" Zim pointed out optimistically, and when Purple went to smack him, he suddenly whipped out the water gun _still _residing in his pocket. The Tallest reconsidered.

"Doesn't mean she won't, sooner or later."

Bereft of an argument, and their spirits seriously dampened by this statement (Purple really liked using his Tallest card for everything), the ship's interior became silent once again, save Gaz's game. There wasn't nearly enough time after that for them to get bored again, thank Irk, as Dib spotted something up ahead.

Something small and Twinkie-colored.

Swerving about like a drunken bee...

* * *

DUN DUN DUN.

Yes, I know, it's mean to release one chapter almost immediately after another, but my style is not "pick a day and post on every one of that day", it's "post the chapter when it's done".

I know what you're thinking.

"Who's that random Irken? Does he really matter? At all?"

He's significant. I SWEAR EET. He also means Black can make hybrids as well as zombies. And I've been wanting to write that part since I thought of the character Xix, so don't you _dare_ bitch at me about it.

Red... lay off the booze.

Review it.


	11. Reunion

Chapter 11: Reunion

* * *

There are just some things you don't do while heavily intoxicated.

One of those things is operating some kind of vehicle.

On Earth, such careless behavior will award you with a DUI and probably your license getting revoked - that is, if you don't crash into someone or thing first. Then there's this big spiel about insurance, which you don't care about because you're either dead or are watching pink and purple spotted penguins dance across your dashboard with rainbow dinosaurs and little plastic car salesmen while hitting your next drink, even though the cop is _right there_.

In space, it's just the crashing part. Maybe the insurance bit if you're lucky.

Dibship, meet Snacky Cab. Snacky Cab, meet Dibship.

Red had only been paying attention to where he was going two seconds before the impact, as those aforementioned water fowl, extinct lizards, and plastic humanoids were doing the tango at mach 5, due to the addition of even _more _alcohol added on top of the shit from the bar. Because of his wonderful tolerance, he had been slowly coming out of his sad state of drunkenness due to purchased booze, but after ramming all those ships and random space debris, he had decided that maybe another six pack wouldn't hurt. Or two. Or three.

It probably would soothe that concussion he just _knew _he had.

Because of his intoxication, he did not recognize nor care to recognize the ship that had crunched into the nose of his own vessel. The only thing on his mind was revenge. Because we all know what else booze does to one's psyche.

"'Ey, you!" He yelled drunkenly at the several pairs of feet currently very close to his own windshield. "You snoshed my cab! That's gonna cost extra!"

The feet didn't move for a while and if he had been thinking clearly he would have surmised them dead. But his brain couldn't surmise any better than that of a retarded monkey who has lost most of his frontal lobe. Instead, he just went on shouting at them, and just before he had decided he was going to punch the glass out to get a violent word or two in, the feet stirred, and their owners sat up. All five of them.

But it was the one in the middle, the biggest one, even his epileptic primate's mind could recognize.

"_Pur?_"

* * *

Approximately twenty seconds earlier...

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That." Dib pointed.

Purple squinted at it and frowned. "How fast are you going? It might be another cop."

"I don't think police vehicles look like drunken Twinkies... or bees... bee-Twinkies? Twinkie-bees?"

Zim crawled on top of the console, carefully avoiding the controls. "Actually," He said matter-of-factly, also squinting. "That looks like a Sna-"

WHAM.

The impact with the Snacky Cab the quartet on their backs, although now it was a quintet because at some point GIR had gotten bored of roof-riding and had sidled down into the ship. Being that the Dibship was quite a bit smaller than the other, it was unclear why it hadn't splintered into bits on impact - perhaps Tak had found a good alloy for the hull. Perhaps Murphy was taking a nap. Whatever it was, the Dibship's nose was smashed into the Snacky Cab's, the latter appearing to have taken more damage.

The five lay there, dazed and trying to reassemble at least some of their brains, and then they heard a voice. A male voice. A drunk voice. The intoxicated slur almost made it hard to recognize, but at least one person already had, drunkenness and all.

"'Ey, you! You snoshed my cab! That's gonna cost extra!"

After that it launched into an assault of obscene but mostly incomprehensible strings of words. They didn't seem to have any real effect on our 'heroes', as they were starting to sit up, a couple remotely wondering why they hadn't died.

Then the assault came to an abrupt halt.

It was obvious as to why: the owner of the drunk voice, who appeared to be Tallest Red (but nothing is certain out here - for all they know, that could be another something like Black), was staring slack-jawed at Purple. Purple was staring slack-jawed back. Red spoke first.

"_Pur?_"

"Red!" Accompanied by a ridiculous-looking point in Red's direction.

Then somehow the not-as-drunk-as-he-had-been-two-seconds-ago-due-to-shock crimson-eyed Tallest hauled the quintet into the cab. It had enough room for the pair of leaders to stand, staring at each other in much the same as they had two seconds ago.

This time, it was Purple who broke the silence.

"You idiot!" He cried, smacking his co-Tallest upside the head. "Here I was, thinking that _thing _had killed you, and then you suddenly saunter up, reeking of booze!"

"I don't reek!" Red smacked him back. "And you-- you let her take the Empire, not me!"

"Let her?! She fucking _threw me out of an airlock_! Last I checked that doesn't mean 'okay, sweetie, you can have our Empire now'!"

"It might as well have!"

"You-- you-- AGH!"

As the two then launched into a fist fight, the other four just watched, Zim somewhat bemused, Gaz annoyed, Dib a little concerned and confused, and GIR debating on whether he ought to jump in, as it looked awful fun. And painful.

It finally ended up with Red pinning Purple against the wall, both having matching clawmarks in different places, Purple bleeding a little from his lip. They glared at each other, looking as though they were about to go at it again (or Purple was about to rip the other's throat out with his teeth)... and then Purple sniffled.

"I missed you, you stupid bastard."

Insert mutual waterworks and a hug, efficiently disturbing everyone else in the ship. Dib turned to Zim, who looked like he was going to either throw up or run screaming into the vacuum of space.

"Dude, your leaders are gay." He said.

"Shut up." Zim didn't sound all that opposed to the notion.

Being that they were in the same room as this exchange, the Tallest got over their little reunion thing, letting go of one another with Red returning to the front of the ship, upon which all who were watching him could notice that he wasn't able to hover either, and appeared to be wearing a full leather bodysuit (Gaz was the one who paid the most attention to this observation, and was trying to keep her brain from putting forth ANY adjectives to describe it). He scowled, then contemptuously kicked the smushed-in paneling. It jarred a bit, and then another kick or two unsmushed it, the Dibship no longer bonded to its nose and floating off a few feet.

"So," Red's drunken slur was gone now, as though he'd burned it all off during his little tussle with Purple. He probably had. "Where are you going?"

"We don't really know," Zim answered.

"We thought she was in the Massive," Purple added. "but then we got her little announcment thing, which was on Irk. So I guess we're going to Irk."

"Going the wrong way."

"My directional skills suck, remember?"

"Okay," Being that he'd already known that. "Why?"

"To kill her." The tone of Purple's voice sent a chill down most of their spines.

"Just you? And, er, these other people?"

"Hey!" Zim and Dib chorused, indignant.

"Yes." Purple made a face. "I was making it up as I went along."

Red sat, thinking. He had half a bottle of _something _in his right hand, forgotten for the moment. Purple snatched it away from him, then took a deep swig before the other could protest. He handed it back, sighing softly. Neither of them looked as though they were about to speak again, so Dib piped up, curiosity overwhelming him.

"Well..." Prompting Red. "Where were _you_?"

Red gave him a sickened glare. "Don't ask."

"Foodcourtia?" Zim asked, not actually trying to be annoying but doing it anyway. He was just so pleased he'd recognized a ship. And then he realized something, and blurted it out, as usual. "You were a fry cook!"

The other twitched.

"...Yes, Zim. Yes I was."

Upon which the other two Irkens busted out laughing despite themselves, mainly Zim. Red growled warningly, but they were laughing a bit too hard and thus its effect was lost on them.

"It's not that funny." He said coldly. They kept laughing.

As he was about to strangle them - mainly Zim, being that he was closer and smaller - he noticed something through the corner of the normal eye.

Something shippy-looking.

Something _Vortian _shippy-looking.

The Dibship had disappeared, because it was where it had been, but the main idea is that _there's a_ _Vortian ship right there, waiting for them_.

"Shit!" Red yelled, and immediately goosed the throttle, sending the other five bouncing around the ship like beans, at least until they found something to hold on to.

"What-"

"The Resisty!"

A pause.

"Shit, indeed."

After this exchange between the twin Tallests, the amount of speaking was reduced to random and probably unnecessary cries of "ROCK!" "SHIP!", and sometimes "COMET!", right by Red's head. Insert an exciting and harrowing chase scene here, ending up with our heroes' ship hiding in an asteroid patch, behind a very large asteroid.

"I think we lost 'em," Red said after a while, sounding quite unconvinced.

"That's why Irkens don't think!" A voice called from the other ship, as it suddenly popped up about a foot away, seemingly out of nowhere.

Before they could react, the Snacky Cab was ensnared by a net made from energy, then "stored" snugly under the enemy ship, which flew off in some random direction no one really saw because they were staring dumbly at each other.

A moment of silence.

"I just realized something," Purple remarked.

"And that is?"

He frowned. "Our luck... really sucks."

* * *

I throw Xix in, and he doesn't even get to be in the next chapter. Such a mean keeper am I.

Is short. Is also why I don't write stories on notebook paper.

Review, y0.


	12. Plans Go Awry

Chapter 12: Plans Go Awry

* * *

"No no no! It's all wrong!"

Under Irk, Black had encountered a problem, of sorts.

She had thought that, because the infusion had worked on Xix, it would work on other live subjects. But as she was staring at what used to be an Irken, now not even a zombie but some dark-eyed abomination, it was obvious that it hadn't. There were a lot of those abominations scattered about the room where they had tried to crawl out, and her "first-born" was poking them with a mixture of disgust and amusement, giggling at them every time they tried to react.

"Why won't it work?!" She screamed, kicking the one before her. It flew across the room and splattered against the wall, twitching slightly. "What did he have that they don't?"

"A brain," Xix offered unhelpfully, and had to duck as another of the abominations were chucked in his direction.

Black seethed, grasping one of the unconscious living Irkens (for if they were awake, after the first failure they would probably have tried to escape, not wanting to meet the same fate) roughly by the arm and throwing him onto the platform, face-down. The machine went through the procedure, as a zombie was working the controls now, and when it was finished... well, it wasn't an abomination. But something wasn't right. There wasn't any free will. There wasn't any personality. He was basically a slight step up from a zombie with about the same lack of brain power.

"But it worked," She told herself, then turned to one of the remaining advisors, the meek little purple-eyed one, forced to accompany her in this Irk-forsaken place. "Why didn't he come out such a failure as the rest of them? What makes him and Xix so special?"

"Umm..." He probably should have known better than to deliberate.

"Tell me! Or you'll join them!"

"T-they had Stryder's, I think..."

"What?"

"Stryder's. It's... umm..."

Impatient, she swept through his mind, looking for anything pertaining to Stryder's. She obtained the words "brain defect", "purple eyes", and "a rarity" before she stopped the sweep. And resulting in that was an aggravated cry, her fingers uselessly massaging her temples in an effort to calm her down. This entire thing was useless. If Stryder's carriers were the only ones that would work, and they were rare, then she would have to comb the entire population for them. She doubted such information was stored on the database, at least not in an easy to find place.

She looked toward Xix.

"Screw it, just kill the lot of them. We'll make them into zombies." Noticing the sheer joy that came over his face from this statement, "Try not to damage their shells too badly."

"Yes, Mother."

"And kill those... _things _as well. They're of no use to me."

"Right away, Mother."

"Stop calling me that."

"Whatever you say, Mother."

Black growled warningly, but he didn't hear or didn't care, leaping up and walking over to the unconscious Irken pile. They were starting to wake up. One had even poked his head up, looking around all dazed-like. He noticed an abomination first, which was crawling closer to the pile in that way only abominations and slugs had, letting out a yelp and falling off the pile. Then he noticed Xix, standing over him and grinning insanely.

More than that, he noticed the weapon in his left hand. It wasn't even a weapon. It appeared to be someone else's spider leg, probably from one of those.. _things_ that were squiggling everywhere.

"Mother says I should make it clean," The other told him sadly.

Instincts told him to run. And he tried. He really did. But the moment he stood up to do so the leg was through his middle, close enough to his PAK that something was severed, something was ruptured, and just enough blood was lost that his body just gave up, crumpling to the floor beside one of the abominations, eyes that were the same color of his blood blank and lifeless. The abomination let out a sick croak and appeared to be trying to investigate the corpse, earning a stab through its head.

Xix sighed and picked the body up before any other abominations could try to investigate it, chucking it contemptuously at Black, who placed it on the platform almost automatically. "They do heal when they become zombies, right?"

"They should."

"Because it would suck if he was to come back to life only to fall over and die again," Being that the others were unconscious, he didn't have to make such an effort, stabbing them one-by-one as he went, judging that they were dead by the simple fact they had stopped their soft, almost unnoticeable breathing.

One had to be stabbed twice, because apparently he had gotten her in the breathing portion of her squeedlyspooch, being that she was starting to make drowning noises and flailing, trying to get air. The second hit was to her head, and safe to say she was dead within seconds.

After they were all thoroughly dead and nearly perfect in their death, almost untouched save a hole or two in their bodies, he kicked them at his Tallest, who put them on the platform, and the zombie infused them - it was almost like an assembly line. Then he went to stabbing abominations with about as much enthusiasm as a child at church, being that the things couldn't fight back, and weren't all that nice to look at while they died.

As this was going on, an assistant ran in and whispered something to the advisor, Argo. He blinked, then turned toward Black.

"Incoming transmission, my Tallest," He told her, as importantly as he could.

She didn't even look up from her body-chunking. "Transfer it to that screen over there." Here she lazily pointed toward the west wall, which had a large screen on it, installed shortly after she discovered all the other things she had to do as Tallest - like take calls from all those stupid Invaders the former pair had sent out. Honestly, did they think she could fix all their problems if they called her? And did they really think she cared what point in their conquest they were on?

The screen flickered to life, and while she only saw what was on it through the corner of her eye, it had her attention.

For she had noticed a pair of Irkens she had so recently believed to be dead.

* * *

Once again, he was captured.

At least this time it wasn't a pair of humans as captors, and his company wasn't only Tallest Purple.

But the cons outweighed the pros, obviously, being that he was once again strapped to a chair with some weird pizza-shaped alien leering at him. From what he could see there was a motley crue of different aliens, the most noticeable a Vortian male with greenish-yellow goggles and a blue jumpsuit. He was busy leering at Red and Purple, apparently _so pleased _he'd caught the leaders of the race he was leading a resistance against.

This Zim mainly learned by listening to him. It wasn't all that hard, since he kept talking. But don't captors often talk their captives' hearing apparatuses off? One of those unspoken rules of capturing, he guessed.

"You're making a mistake," Red said coldly. "We're not the Tallest anymore. What's got the throne now is three times as bad as we could ever be."

"And I should believe you... why?"

The biggest con of them all was the plan their captor had hatched out of his brain. He would call the Empire, tell them he had their leaders and they'd have to pay him off big time (in the form of money _and _stopping Operation Impending Doom II) to get them back, and then he'd kill his captives before running off with the money -- just to be sure nothing like this would happen again.

Simple, straightforward, and heavily flawed.

Because the Resisty didn't get the Irken news station, due to some "messing around" by Shloonktapoonxis, they didn't know Black was in charge now. They didn't know she didn't know Red and Purple weren't dead. All that time of sneaking behind her back would be for naught. And if Lard Nar didn't kill them, she would. She would probably hunt them down even if they survived. Hunt them all down, Resisty included.

This was what our heroes were trying to convey to the Resisty's leader. But, being pig-headedly skeptical, he wouldn't listen. In fact, he had it in his brain that this was a ploy to get him to set them free.

"Because she killed us to get it."

The Vortian frowned, crossing his arms. "You don't look dead to me."

"That's the point. She did it badly, but she doesn't know that. She still thinks we're dead. You call her..."

"I don't care."

"You call her, she'll kill you too."

"She probably doesn't even exist. Now how do you suppose something _imaginary _can kill me, hm?" Before they could answer, he turned to one of the other crewmembers, commanding him to send a call to the Irken Empire. Somehow he seemed to know he'd have to call Irk, because that was what the other was sending the call to.

"Don't do it." Zim said, the last plea they were apparently allowed to have.

"Too late." He cleared his throat, eyes closed.

The screen flickered into life, upon what appeared to be a dark chamber, the main focus this huge machine. All around it were Irkens with blank black eyes, doing menial work such as cleaning up piles of somethings that were faintly Irken but horribly disfigured, lying dead. What his captives mainly noticed was Tallest Black, standing with her side to the camera. But once the eye nearest them pointed toward them, she jolted, turning and staring in shock at Red and Purple. "Attention Irken scum--"

Halfway through his statement he opened his eyes, and noticed that indeed there was someone else in charge.

* * *

Eeeek. Short.

Stryder's, by the way, is a creation of DemonSurfer's. Go read her fic Shades of Purple to find out what it is. And review it too. It feels unloved.

Review, y0.

Or else I shall send those abominations upon your head.

And it will be bad.


	13. Revelations

Chapter 13: Revelations

* * *

"What-- YOU!" Black yelled, pointing accusingly at Red and Purple. "You're not dead! You're supposed to be dead! I killed you myself!"

Zim couldn't resist. "Ummm... maybe you should have tried harder?"

This appeared to incite her more. For a moment, they thought she was going to throw one of the milling dead-eyed Irkens at the screen. Instead she just seethed. Just as she went to speak again, another black-eyed Irken appeared, holding one of the grotesque creatures in one hand. He was somewhat tall, had a PAK with no spots, uniform black with four purple stripes as opposed to the others' black uniforms with two gray stripes.

"Who are you talking to, Mother?" He asked.

It was then that Lard Nar appeared to really notice the backdrop behind Black. Whatever hopes he had left of completing his little ransom mission were mercilessly smushed just by looking at those.. things.

She already said she killed his hostages.

She made goo out of what appeared to be Irkens.

She had a horde of zombies at her disposal.

She probably didn't give a flying shit.

Black roughly pushed the newcomer away, disregarding his question. "Fine. I'll 'try harder'. I will kill you. All of you. And you will stay dead. Don't bother running or hiding." She narrowed her eyes. "Because I will hunt you down, and I will find you. I never make the same mistake twice."

Then she cut the transmission.

"Great going, idiot," Red said darkly.

"That's... not what I had in mind." Said Lard Nar, still in shock.

"And what _did_ you have in mind? A happy ending with no Irken oppressors and a boatload of monies in your pants?"

"Well... not necessarily in my pants..."

This resulted in a one-sided fistfight, as Red had somehow escaped his restraints and was now practically beating the snot out of the little Vortian. No one cared to stop him. They were all actually thinking the same thing, Resisty crew included. Who could blame them?

As he was doing that, the aforementioned crew reluctantly untied the rest of our heroes, being that they didn't need them anymore. Just as reluctantly, Purple attempted to stop further mutilation of the Resisty captain. He succeeded... with a black eye. Red was soon placated (only slightly) with a bottle of some unmarked alcoholic product. Lard Nar had to bandage his wounds on his own.

"Now what?" Dib asked, moments later, when everyone wasn't trying to kill each other.

"What do you mean?" Red was apparently looking for another maim-victim.

"What are we going to do now? You heard what she said. We can't run or hide."

Zim thought a moment. "What if we run _at_ her, instead of running _from_ her?"

"That's stupid."

"She won't expect us to be that stupid."

"True, true... all in favor of running towards our certain doom, say 'aye'."

The Invader frowned, being as everyone was very silent. "Well, if you put it like _that_.."

"What?" Purple glanced back at him. "That's what it is."

"But it's the only plan we've got, so... yeah. Aye." Red muttered.

Seeing this as some sort of cue, each person agreed afterward, save Purple and Gaz. Gaz had just said 'I guess'. Since she says that for everything she agrees to, we'll assume it's a yes. This was not what Purple had expected, being that it was _Zim _who suggested it, but it was the only plan they had. Everything else seemed even stupider.

"This is still stupid. Aye." He sighed.

"So we're going off to face Her Imperial Viciousness armed only with whatever the hell the Resisty's got. Stupid, but simple."

"...we've got good weapons." Lard Nar protested apathetically.

Purple ignored him. "Onward, to death!"

A pause.

"Oops. That's your job, innit?"

The Vortian shot him a dirty look.

"Yes it is." Looking toward the crew. "Well, you heard him! Go, dammit!"

"YESSIR!"

* * *

Once the transmission was cut, Black didn't miss a beat.

"Xix!"

The hybrid in question, bored from the lack of victims to kill and the fact that she wouldn't include him in her little conversation, had grabbed the "live" zombie (the one who had also had Stryder's) in a headlock and was currently writing something on its forehead in what appeared to be a black magic marker. When she called his name, he jolted, revealing the... er... message.

He had written STUPID on its head. Lovely.

"Quit playing with that thing and get over here!"

He obeyed. "What is it, Mother?"

"I need you to do something special for me."

"Anything, Mother."

"Find those idiots. Kill them. You may recruit someone to help you. Or be your meatshield. I don't want you getting yourself killed."

The last line was not out of compassion. She just didn't want her best experiment getting killed off, being that the exact same type of Irken would be extremely hard to find. It was hard to tell if Xix thought it was compassion, though. He just grinned and saluted, turning to leave to do exactly that.

"Oh, and one more thing."

He turned. "Yes, Mother?"

She scowled.

"Stop calling me Mother. It's getting irritating."

A moment as he pondered this.

"Okay, Mother!" And, without giving her time to remind him of what she had just said, he darted out of the room.

Left alone with her zombies and Argo (who wasn't much company at all, being that he was so damned afraid of her, making her want to eat him), she seethed. Then she glanced toward the 'named' zombie, who stared blankly back.

"That's permanent marker, isn't it?" She asked.

Stupid remained silent, though he did appear to frown a little.

She sighed. "Oh well, it's not important anyway." She frowned a little herself, beginning to pace, as well as one can in hoverbelts. "There's something missing. I have an army of zombies. I have an Empire of living Irkens. I have enough food to last me a lifetime. I'm getting rid of the only mistake I made. I ought to be pleased. But I'm not. Something isn't right. Something I ought to be doing that I'm not."

Argo was watching her, curious and afraid, assuming what she meant by food was snacks. Hopefully.

"But what?"

Stupid tilted his head, looking as though he was actually interested in what she was saying.

"Something... to do with zombies..."

A few of the zombies that weren't helping with the "procession" looked toward her.

"Incoming transmission," Argo reported.

She waved mildly at him to put it on screen.

It was another of those damned Invaders. When he started talking, she seriously only heard 'blah, blah, blah' - that was how disinterested in his pathetic life she was. It sounded needy. Those stupid Invaders were always asking for stuff from her. Looking for help, or permission, or whatever.. they were so _needy_. If they weren't so focused on those needs of theirs, they could get those missions done and leave her alone.

Wait...

What isn't needy? What doesn't care if it's out of food? What won't whine that it needs more weaponry?

Black grinned. The Invader immediately stopped talking.

"Guess what, dearheart? I don't care."

"My Tallest?"

"I don't even need you."

The Invader was stunned. Looked a little hurt, too.

"But.. what about my mission?"

"It's going to be given to something that's not so damned _needy_. You're going to be replaced by a zombie. Maybe it will succeed where you've obviously failed."

"A... zombie?" He was still in shock.

She jerked her head toward one of the zombies who had looked at her while she was thinking out loud.

"Rather than reassign you, I'm just going to kill you. Less work that way. Have a nice day."

Before he could react, she cut the transmission. Then she turned toward the zombies, who, sensing her plans, had stopped moving and were just stupidly staring at her. Stupid straightened its head to the normal position.

Her grin got wider, became almost Xix-like.

"Boys, you've got some work to do."

* * *

"I spy, with my little eye..."

"A star."

Spudgy and Spooger weren't near Earth today. Today, they were out of the Milky Way and floating somewhat near a planet that appeared to be covered in neon lights. They weren't out of fuel, either, but mildly cruising, seeing as they had nothing better to do. Spooger was playing I Spy again, much to the displeasure of his somewhat smarter colleague.

"Look, can we play something different for a change?"

The other pouted, then noticed something approaching them. Something sleek and black with a purple Irken symbol on the side.

"I spy, with my little eye... somethin' black with a purple Irken face on it." He said, pointing at it to show that he wasn't playing this time. Spudgy blinked, swiveling his spinny chair so that he could see. This one looked tougher than the last Irken ship they had seen. And it appeared to be heading straight toward them.

A little red light began to flash on the console beside Spudgy's chair.

"They're calling us... should we answer 'em?" He asked dubiously.

"I unno... I don't think the box can help, either, 'cause they might shoot us if we don't..."

"I don't want to be shot."

"Me neither. Answer 'em."

One of Spudgy's little spindly arms reached up and flicked the button. The screen flashed on, showing an insane looking Irken with black eyes. He looked exactly the type to shoot someone if they didn't respond.

"Errr... hi?" Spooger offered.

"Hello there, slime." The other said affectionately. "Mother's sent me on a mission to kill her little nuisances. She wanted me to get some underdeveloped stooges to 'help' me. You look underdeveloped and stoogey enough."

"Why should we help you?"

"Oh, I don't know, free food and the like. Best of all, you get to be my meatshields, in case they grow spines and try to kill me back."

Spudgy frowned. "I don't want to be a meatshield."

"But, but, Spudgers... food! Real live food!"

"Yes. All you can eat." There was a certain tone inflicted on this string that wasn't exactly trustworthy. "Not to mention, you'll probably be rewarded by either myself or Mother if I succeed."

That settled it for Spudgy.

"I'm in! MONEY!" He grinned.

"Then it's settled?" Just a customary, 'are you sure' question there. He already knew the answer.

"Yes!" They chorused.

"Good. Very good. Follow me. And try to keep up."

Then he cut the transmission. The black ship with the Irken symbol on its flank turned, then darted away, rather fast at that. Wondering what would happen if they didn't keep up, they followed, like a puppy after its master.

They didn't know what they were getting into...

* * *

Whew. Unlucky 13, you can't stop me with writer's block for long.

It's probably not as good as you people were expecting. But 70 percent was done at 5 AM, so there.

... sorry it took like.. two months to update... I put myself in a corner and am trying to work my way out...

Review, y0.


	14. Nuisances

Chapter 14: Nuisances

* * *

Even the best - or worst - of people make stupid decisions.

"Are we there yet?"

_Crunch crunch._

"Ooh, look, a star..."

Due to the fact that his new stooges continually lagged behind, sometimes even dropped out of sight, Xix had decided to put them in his ship with him. Saved on gas, and he could get to chop up Mother's nuisances faster. It seemed a pretty damn good idea, to him.

But now, ten minutes after the decision was made...

His stooges had made themselves at home. More specifically, they kept cramming their ugly faces by his head, munching on his rations (which they had mistaken for their free food) loudly by his antennae, getting slobber and crumbs all over his shoulder, and every few seconds the green one kept asking him if they were there yet. The blue thing then either made a stupid observation, poked him in the back of the head, or tried to make the other two play I Spy with him.

The only thing keeping him from killing them was the vague notion that he needed meatshields.

The notion was getting vaguer every time they spoke.

"Hey, scary dude," Accompanied by another poke in the head. "Where exactly _are_ we going, anyway?"

Xix's left eye twitched. Whichever one it was, he was lucky to still have his filthy meaty finger attached to his filthy meaty hand.

"You'll know when we get there." He growled.

A pause.

"Oh... okay."

Several minutes passed in blessed silence. He relaxed only to brush off the crumbs and drool, being that he had been practically strangling the controls the entire time. Then the silence broke and it was back to control-strangling.

"How exactly will we know? I mean, you haven't told us _anything_. You just said we're gonna go kill some guys your mom doesn't like."

"Yeah... why haven't you told us anything?"

"Because your jobs are simple: stand in front of me and die. You don't need any information for that."

"It would help..."

"Just.. do what you were doing before." Through clenched teeth. "I could stand that."

He thought for a moment they wouldn't, you know, pirates being ruleless outlaws and whatnot, but then they obeyed. And he instantly regretted his words, because apparently not only were they eating his food and nattering in his antennae, but one of them had taken up the riveting sport of clipping his toenails. It was probably the blue one, being that the green one even reaching his feet was a physical impossibility.

It didn't stop at that - they were projectile toenails. Toenails were smacking into the back of his head, or flying over his shoulder and landing either in his lap, on the controls, or even beaning the main viewscreen and sliding grotesquely onto one of the two aforementioned places. He was sure one of them had gotten inside his boot.

Had he any sanity to start with, it would have fled long before this moment.

_Mother said to get meatshields, _he thought coldly, not really noticing one of the joysticks in his grasp bending a little. _She didn't say they had to be _living _meatshields._

The dimmest hint of a smirk crossed his lips at the notion.

Sadistically reassured, he slowly began to release his death-grip on the controls, already thinking of the creative ways he could kill his stooges...

"**Proximity warning: enemy ship ahead.**"

"Damn," Xix muttered. Idiocy, protected again.

But, on the bright side, there was the Vortian ship Mother's nuisances were hiding in, hovering there neat as you please. And the stooges had stopped talking long enough to wonder what the hell was going on. Mainly why their superior cursed the arrival of their destination.

They didn't matter now. His prey was in sight.

That grin he'd grinned when he was "born" reappeared, the one that made it look like his head had almost split open. He pulled on several levers and pressed a few buttons, and outside one would see the sleek black form of the ship marred by quite a lot of deadly-looking guns.

All aimed at our heroes.

* * *

Dib was regretting draining a six pack of soda before they had been captured.

The poor boy was under the assumption that every alien species (besides the ones that had made the convenience store, thank God for them), like the Irkens, had removed that unnecessary system in which one has to go release one's waste. Because of this assumption, he kept quiet about his distress. It wasn't all that bad, he didn't have to go that bad yet...

Except the Resisty crew and those he'd come on the ship with kept drinking whatever liquid they got their claws on. Mostly it was booze (Gaz hitting whatever soda was left), but it all came down to that same sound: the trickling of running water.

Torture, thy name is pee.

But he wasn't about to ask them to pull over again. For all he knew, Black or that little freaktard that had popped up at the last minute could be waiting for them at the next gas station. The relief was not worth getting captured again. And or killed. He supposed that he could distract Black by peeing on her leg like a dog, if it came down to it, sick as that was. That's how pee-obsessed he was.

He was sure he had pee in his eyeballs by now. He had half a mind to actually ask Zim if his eyes had turned yellow.

The internal torment decided getting captured _was _worth it, as it reminded him that his kidneys and bladder would probably explode if he didn't get to a restroom fast, and so he waddled tight-assedly to the Resisty captain, who was also lazily drinking something, though almost done with it.

"Umm, 'scuse me..." Unnaturally quiet.

"What?"

"We need to make a pit stop... it's kinda urgent..."

Lard Nar glanced over at the boy, who made his saddest pee-pee face.

"We can't pull over, moron."

"But I gotta go..."

It finally hit the Vortian. And unlike Zim and Purple, he was not disgusted. He was amused. He laughed, tossing the empty can at Dib's head. Dib didn't see how it was funny, his impending bladder doom, as the captain should be worrying about what could happen if all that pee escapes into the ship. Pee floods **kill**, doncha know.

Eventually he calmed himself down, grinning. "Then go to the bathroom."

"Do what?"

"This ship has a bathroom, you know, as we Vortians had the sense to evolve urinary systems."

Dib flushed, then wished his brain had thought of a different verb. Doesn't he feel stupid.

"...oh."

"Well, go on then, before you make a mess on my floor."

"But... where is it?"

"Down the hall and to the left. Second door near the end."

If the other wasn't sitting six feet from the floor and the boy too unstable to climb, Dib would have hugged him. Instead he just made a really grateful face (big eyes with little tears in them), which disturbed the Vortian with its cuteness. Then he waddled quickly down the hall, screaming happily, "Thank yooooooou!"

Lard Nar shook his head. "Humans."

"I know what you mean." Zim agreed.

Meanwhile, Dib, though grateful, was getting a bit disoriented. The Resisty ship had more rooms in that one hallway than you could shake a plunger at. He found one with a marking on top, which in a certain light looked like a men's room insignia, assumed it was the right one (as he wasn't really counting) and rushed into it. The resulting scream stopped quite a few conversations.

"Oh, my bad," Lard Nar called, as the boy waddled, shredded, out of the room. "That was the rabid beaver pen. Try the next one."

He did. More screaming. The Resisty's leader was starting crack up.

"Ooh, sorry, that was the really pointy things planetarium. Try one on the right."

A little more of this went on, not a single one the bathroom, until Dib didn't go into a room Lard Nar had said. Lard Nar was pretty much in hysterics at this point, being easily entertained by pee-driven stupidity.

The boy gave a sardonic smile.

"No more worries." He said.

Lard Nar stopped laughing. "Do what?"

"I'm better now." He glanced toward the door he had just left. "All that running and screaming, you know... Good thing I brought extra pants!" This was accented by holding up said pants. "Most of it's on the floor, though."

"... what?"

But Dib was already running off somewhere private to change, incidentally the little Vortian's room.

Lard Nar gave a very sick look. "Clean up, aisle three."

"But this isn't the supermarket..." Someone said.

"Puddle. Pee. Mop. GO!"

"Yes sir!"

And a group of various aliens went, while our happy fun group, sans Dib and Gaz, started laughing their heads off. Lard Nar glared at them, though at the same time still looked like he was going to puke.

"S'not funny."

"Well, since it's _your _ship, not ours, that has a pee-puddle in it... yeah, it's pretty funny." Purple grinned.

"I'll pee-puddle your face." Lard Nar responded weakly, causing the three Irkens to dissolve into manic fits of giggles again. Rather than try to shut them up again, the other just sighed and swiveled back toward the controls. He thought he heard someone shut them up anyway. Painfully. For a moment, he was pleased. And then...

"Um, sir..." Said Spleenk.

Seriousness.

He sighed. "What now?"

"Enemy ship approaching."

"How do you know it's an enemy?"

Spleenk gave him the deadest look he could.

"Maybe it's because it's got FORTY TONS OF FIREPOWER AIMED AT US?!"

"What?!" Lard Nar almost fell out of his seat. "Give me a visual!"

The screen before him changed to a view from one of the side cameras. In it, the panorama of space was interrupted by what appeared to be a black ship with a purple Irken insignia on the side. One could barely see said insignia as, indeed, it had quite a lot of firepower protruding out of its once sleek, uninterrupted form.

And every last gun was aimed at them.

"Shit! Shit shit shit!" He turned back to Spleenk. "What kind of weapons are those?"

"I unno... but they look better than what we got... and I don't think the ship'll take much from 'em before turning to metally goop."

"As I thought. We'll have to outrun 'em."

Then a transmission began to come through. Just words, not visual, not even spoken - little white text appearing on the screen under the enemy ship. But it was still threatening.

_Hello, scum. Mother wants you to die. I'm here to make sure that no matter how far you run, no matter how cleverly you hide, no matter how pitifully you beg and plead... Mother gets what she wants._

"Fuck." Said Purple, after everyone had a chance to read the little white text. Shortly after he received a cold spritz of water to the back of his head by Zim, who neglected to punish him again when he cried out. Dib came back at that moment in time, pee-free and somewhat confused, at least until he read Xix's lovely message on the screen.

"I have a plan." Zim announced proudly, putting the squirt gun away.

Purple's apparent desire to strangle the little Invader dropped somewhat in disapproval. "Another one?"

"Yes. And this one is more clever than playing stupid."

"What... exactly is this plan of yours..?" Lard Nar interrupted hesitantly, earning some weird stares from both the former Tallests and a few of his crew.

"You can't seriously be considering-"

The Vortian held up one hand. "No choice, remember? Now, speak, you little Irken weirdo."

Zim grinned.

"Well..."

* * *

Shortly after he had sent them the warning (being that he did want more of a game than just shooting them while they sat there, unawares), he fully expected them to rush off like the scared little underlings they were. But the ship just sat there. Mocking him. Disappointing him.

"Why'd you warn them if you're just going to kill them anyway?" Spooger wondered aloud, blinking.

Xix only growled in reply.

Ten more minutes of fruitlessly waiting... and then it suddenly shot off, at the speed of light, moving toward what appeared to be a cluster of asteroids. Delighted that the game was on, the hybrid activated everything that would make their ship go very, very fast, guns moving back into the ship so it could move even faster.

He chased them down into that cluster, until they ducked behind one. He frowned. They wouldn't think he was stupid enough to fall for that, would they? He let out some of the guns again and pummeled the rock until the Vortian ship shot away from it again. Had he paid attention to anything but that one ship, he would have seen something that looked like an enlarged Twinkie darting behind another rock seconds before the ship left.

He hadn't. Too fixed on his prey, he was. He wished he could get inside their ship and kill them more personally... but there was a chance, you see, that his stooges would steal his ship while he was off ripping out some larynxes. Shooting them full of holes, while not ideal, was easy and convenient.

Said stooges were screaming as though the ship had no control, which, if you weren't in the pilot's seat, seemed a feasible idea considering how recklessly the hybrid flew. The hybrid was the only one secured to the ship, really, besides the necessary controls and whatnot, and so Spudgy and Spooger, plus snacks and chairs, were dashed around the ship during the chase.

Had he not been fixed on chasing the Vortian ship, he would have been very pleased to hear their cries of pain.

The chase took them across space, Xix shooting its flank at every opportunity, until the other ship began to slow down. Maybe they were out of fuel. Maybe he had shot one of the engines. Damn shame. Although one would have to expect this, because it appeared they were full of holes.

The Vortian ship crawled to a halt near some space debris. Once it stopped, he shot it full of even more holes, only ceasing fire when the ammunition wouldn't come out anymore. But he wasn't done yet. There was still a slim chance they were still alive.

"Stooges!"

Spudgy and Spooger leapt to their feet as well as they could with multiple concussions.

"Mr. Scaryface, sir!" They cried in unison.

"Go check for survivors. I'll wait here until you return."

Rather than protest (seeing as there really didn't look like there would be any survivors, judging by the condition of the enemy ship), the pair got themselves some oxygen tanks and took a pod over to the other ship, landing it on one of the wings.

They didn't notice when a huge cannon-like thing began to slide out from the underbelly of the ship they had just left, aiming at the Vortian ship.

They dropped into what used to be the bridge, looking about for anything that breathed. They found a lot of bodies, although something wasn't right about those bodies. But they weren't alive, and that was the point. Spooger whipped out a communicator he'd thoughtfully grabbed on the way out, flicking it on as Spudgy wandered over and pillaged some of the bodies, mainly for food.

"Mr. Scaryface?" He said.

"What?" Came the reply.

"No survivors."

"Good."

_Click._

"I wonder if Mr. Scaryface'll give us that money he promised us." Spudgy wondered darkly, moving back toward the pod.

"I doubt he even _has_ any money."

Then everything exploded.

Xix retracted the cannon, grinning like a loon.

"Mission accomplished, Mother." He said, depressing a button somewhat like the communicator Spooger had had. "No survivors."

"Good. Come back to the Massive." Came the reply.

"Yes, Mother."

"... and stop calling me that."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the Snacky Cab, Lard Nar was grieving.

"My ship..."

"We're not dead, though, are we?" Purple almost felt sorry for him. Maybe it was all the tears.

"My baby's dead! And.. and... You and your stupid evil Tallest thing..." The Vortian stifled another sob. "I'm going to go grieve some more in private. Disturb me and I... I'll eat your eyeballs. That goes double for you putrid ship-killing Irkens."

"Generally eyeballs _always _come in doubles."

Lard Nar ignored him, wandering over to a corner of the ship and curling up into the fetal position.

"Wow, that's private." Red remarked sourly.

The Resisty captain wasn't listening. Too busy sobbing into his knees. Dib wandered over and set a stack of Oreos by his head, then wandered over to the rest of the group before it counted as "disturbing" him. GIR ate said Oreos when the boy's back was turned.

"All those puppets, wasted..." Purple muttered sadly, referring to the 'bodies' they had used.

Red glanced at him for a moment, then back to the general mass of alien.

"So," He said meaningfully. "Now what?"

Zim beamed. "I want to drive!"

"What?"

"I earned it! I thought of BOTH glorious plans! So it's only natural I get to drive!"

"But, you--"

The little Invader then dropkicked the current pilot out of his seat and leapt into it, happy as a smeet. He started pressing random buttons. Buttons and levers. Some of which he pressed with his feet, he was so happy. The others stared at him in total and complete shock, jaws halfway down to the floor. No one tried to stop him. They were all too shocked to probably even breathe.

Purple fainted from lack of oxygen, proving the point.

Zim glanced back. "Why's everyone staring at me like that?"

"We're all going to die." Dib explained.

"Oh. Hehe. Yeah." Then he realized just what he'd done. "Crap."

Insert spiralling doom, lots of screaming, and of course Lard Nar continued to grieve.

* * *

I'm not dead or incapacitated, see!

And Spudgy and Spooger were just asking for death, mmkay. Don't write hatemail saying you want their unique brand of stupidity back. I will laugh at you. And then Xix and or Lard Nar will eat your eyeballs. And we'll all laugh at you some more.

Pee issues (i.e., "sad pee-pee face") courtesy of Squee. Thank you, Squee. -pats the little Squeegee-

Aaaand... Xix loses some of his coolness points. Boo.

R&R, y0.


	15. Are We Dead Yet?

Chapter 15: Are We Dead Yet?

* * *

_Drip._

For once, Purple was not scared, worried, freaked out, or even a combination of the three with a little aggravation sprinkled on top served with a pinch of confusion. With fries.

He was happy. And flying. But mostly happy.

_Drip._

He knew it was a dream, the first time in a long time he'd had one. If he didn't, then he would have to wonder just what kind of reality accepted rainbow-colored snakes, nacho trees, and little donuts with wings on them. Jelly donuts. With eyes. Like jelly. Okay, you get the point.

And anyone who has had a dream can tell you wondering's bad for dreams. It makes you wake up too soon.

_Drip._

Unfortunately, even with this statement, Purple _had _to wonder. Something warm and wet and gross kept dripping on his face. In the dream, this warm, wet, gross thing was portrayed as the excrement (made of jelly) of the flying jelly donuts, which made it only mildly annoying, considering the fact that every time they "crapped" on his face they laughed. Laughed like Zim, actually.

_Drip._

Beyond that, it was a good dream. He was having fun, flying about and stuff. At least... until he went to taste the jelly-droppings.

"Blood?" He wondered aloud, bewildered and alarmed. The jelly-birds ignored him.

Jelly isn't supposed to taste like blood. And he highly doubted his subconscious was _that _twisted. But there it was - blood, seeping from the jelly donut-birds (which melted as it seeped); blood, covering the nacho trees and melting them like acid; blood... being roosted in by the rainbow-colored snakes. The snakes didn't give a flying shit, obviously, as once they were covered in blood they started singing. Maybe they were high.

Then they melted. Good riddance. But they were still singing.

_Drip._

When he woke up, he was still somewhat delirious from the dream. Maybe that was how he calmly accepted that he had no idea where the hell he was or what had just happened. In the real world, anyway - the snakes' song was stuck in his head now. Stupid stoner snakes.

One of the first things he noticed after waking up was that his face felt gross. This caused him to remember the blood in the dream, but he dismissed it... until he inadvertently licked his lips and got that same sick copper-and ammonia taste of blood. Irken blood. His blood? Red's blood? Zim's blood? His head didn't hurt nearly enough for it to be his, so...

_Drip._

As another smattering of the stuff landed on his cheek, he finally forced himself to open his eyes. All the delirium left over from the dream was quite efficiently banished by what he saw then, dimly illuminated by the smallest glimmer of an alien moon's light.

A corpse.

An Irken corpse.

Lying on top of him, face to corpsey face, bleeding from a deep gash in its head.

Purple let out a wild squeal and scrambled, trying to get away from the thing - except there was nowhere to scramble to. His efforts were met with a swift impact by his head with metal, metal which he noticed was very, very close, almost like... speaking of which, he happened to notice in his stillness that the corpse was still lying on him, on its back on his stomach with a leg in his lap. He squeaked and rudely shoved it off, where it ended up on his feet, which he frantically kicked until it was flung to the side.

Even dead, Zim was stubborn.

Claustrophobia was beginning to settle in now, panic building, causing him to hyperventilate a little - and then he noticed a bunch of dark, motionless shapes where Zim's corpse had landed.

More corpses. That had to be everyone else.

That meant...

_I'm the only living thing trapped in a ship with corpses._

Corpses which got more grotesque the longer he stared at them.

As they got grosser, he got even more scared, and attempted to back up, only smacking the back of his head on the very close metal wall, which caused him to jolt from surprise and finally flail wildly, trying to beat back the corpses even though they weren't touching him. Zim's corpse, not nearly as far from the panicking Tallest as he would like to think, ended up having its uniform caught on one of his flailing feet, and that sent it flying right back to where it had started: Purple's head.

He screamed, sound somewhat muffled by the nearness of its corpsey head, and he squirmed and flailed like he had never squirmed or flailed before. He didn't want to touch the corpse - who knew what diseases it had by now? And because of that, he couldn't get it off, and was stuck flailing hopelessly, clawing at the too close metal and kicking what seemed to be all the other corpses.

Then one of the flailing arms smacked a weak spot in the metal, that part falling out even as the arm that had done it was stupidly grasping for it until the arm's owner's balance tipped, and he was sent tumbling out of the wreckage backwards, corpse and all.

That was when Purple discovered they had crashed into a hill.

He and the corpse went their separate ways after the first conveniently placed rock, and after three more of those and several more skids downhill, he finally rolled to a halt about fifteen feet from the gnarled wreckage of the Snacky Cab. He lay there for a minute or two, dazed and wondering if his brain was missing, when he realized his arm hurt. Hurt like hell. That was okay; he was laying on it after all, and so, as he staggered woozily to his feet, it was no surprise when he discovered it was broken.

Behind him, there was of course the Snacky Cab, so far crushed into the ground it was a miracle he had even been able to flounder around helplessly in it. Behind that was Tak's ship, miraculously unharmed, save for a couple of scratches on its new all-expenses-paid-by-Black paint job. Lucky sonuvawrench, he supposed.

Before him, there was only wasteland. A clouded wasteland painted in shadows like grotesque splatters of ink. No one, nothing. Just an expanse of corpse-earth and ruins of things that might have been buildings, and over there somewhere there was another ship just like the poor Snacky Cab...

His mind finally regained, the good arm trying to hold the broken one somewhat steady so it wouldn't heal stupid, he turned back toward the ruin of the Cab and cleared his throat, antennae perked for signs of life.

"Anyone who thinks they're dead, say 'aye'," He said.

Strangely enough, some voices responded.

"You're wrong, then."

Then little huddled shapes started shifting inside the Cab. The shapes each tumbled and or jumped out of the ship as they saw fit, most of them rolling down like he had, but somehow missing all four rocks he'd hit. First it was the big-head kid and his sister, then Red, dragging Lard Nar along as he attempted to keep some dignity on his way down, then the unimportant Resisty crew.

Besides Zim, everyone seemed alive.

Somewhere off to the side, the humans had discovered said little Invader-corpse. The gash in his head was even worse in the light, and even here one could see a few signs of the "abuse" he'd taken while frightening Purple in his corpsey way.

"Is he dead?" Gaz asked, morbidly amused.

"Lessee." Dib kicked the corpse in the side.

He said something else, but Purple didn't really pay attention to it, watching the corpse with that same morbid amusement.. Then the corpse's side started moving in that common motion one associates with breathing, and the violet-eyed leader felt some physical deflation of relief. Stupid cockroachlike Zim. Made him start hoping. But that blood... maybe he was in a coma. That would be cool.

Then Red distracted him by asking the all important question:

"Where the hell are we?"

"Beats the fuck out of me," Purple replied, for some reason irritable now that his panic attack was over with.

_Ssst._

"Rule five, idiot," Zim growled, finally conscious like everyone else, despite his head trauma. For the wound alone, Purple let him get away with it. But as soon as it healed...

"Hey, wait," Red distracting him again. "This looks kinda like Boodie Nen. 'Cept, you know..." Gesturing to the ruined everything.

The other re-observed thoughtfully, then nodded. "Just a little bit. But I don't think we ever gave Slacks the kind of artillery that could do something like this..."

"Yeah... Look at that. It looks like something tore it apart..."

"None of our weapons tear stuff apart... well, no _legal _ones, anyway..."

Only remotely interested in this conversation, Dib started to do some observing of his own. It meant wandering away from the crash site, but as he got closer to the "torn apart" stuff, he decided it was worth it. This damage didn't really look like it was done by any kind of weapon, Irken or otherwise. Kind of like...

Before his brain stumbled upon the words it was looking for, something far off to the right groaned. Well, someone. It sounded somewhat intelligent. And full of pain. Assuming that because it was hurt it couldn't attack him (because that sounded like a lot of pain), the boy ran off to investigate it. He eventually found the wreckage of what he was sure had to be an Irken ship, torn apart like the other stuff, crashed horribly... and in it was an Irken. He looked like he'd been mauled by a pack of wolves.

For some reason, there weren't any marks on his neck or head, but just close enough to something vital to make it hard for him to even breathe.. giving the idea that his attackers hadn't wanted to kill him yet. Or maybe they hadn't gotten around to it. Maybe they were going to leave him to die.. he looked half-dead, eyes all dull, blood everywhere - Irken blood smelled kind of bad. Like ammonia.

Then those dull eyes found him, in the midst of his observing. Smaller than Zim's eyes. Hm.

"..zombies..." He croaked.

"Do what?"

The Irken coughed up blood, then started talking again, a dim hint of panic in his voice.

"Zombies... everywhere... shadows..."

"Wait a minute, okay? I'm going to get help. What kind of help they'll be, I don't know, but-- oh, nevermind, just don't die!"

Without waiting for the Irken's opinion on this, Dib ran off, finding this very important to the plot. Black had zombies, right? Maybe he knew something about Black! This implanted in his brains, he almost didn't stop himself in time, skidding to a halt just two inches from the Irken leaders. This invasion of privacy caused them to stop talking and glare at him.

"Irken... wounded... said something about zombies," Dib wheezed, wishing he'd done a little more in gym class.

"Zombies?" Purple wondered.

"Where?" Red demanded.

"Over there." Dib weakly pointed at the wreckage of the ship, and ten minutes later, they were all gathered in front of it, like a cult. Or a group of mourners. The Tallests recognized the poor soul immediately.

"Slacks!"

"My... Tallest..." Slacks gave a weak salute and went into another coughing fit for the effort.

Completely desensitized to this, Red immediately went into interrogation mode. "What the hell happened to you? What's this about zombies?"

Slacks' eyes grew a little wider, unfocused, as though looking into memories. He coughed again, blood slathering down his chin and all over his uniform, and Purple doubted the little guy would make it through his speech. He wanted to talk, though, so they had no right to stop him. To Dib, this was rather sad, and somewhat gross.

"Called... Tallest Black... needed food... out for two months..." Deep, gross breath. "She said... I was going to... be replaced by... a... zombie... and that she was... just going to kill me... less work..." Another, and a coughing fit. "Made plans to leave before she... but... they... hundreds, no, _thousands_... zombies... everywhere... trapped... tried to escape... zombies destroyed ship, destroyed... everything..." When he went on a coughing fit this time, it was a full two minutes before he recovered. It was getting harder for him to breathe. "...hid from them... but they... the shadows... all around... then... then..."

"Then what?"

Slacks, rather than answering his Tallest in words, just screamed.

Of course that made half of them look around frantically for something to scream at, but there was only wasteland, and Slacks was making sick little whimpers. It was rather obvious what the zombies had done then. Otherwise the Invader wouldn't be bleeding profusely from several large wounds.

He recovered himself somewhat, weakly pulling Red close enough so that he only had to whisper. "The shadows..."

"What?"

"Don't step in... the _shadows_..."

Then he dropped back, and looked rather dead, but after a few moments, one noticed he was breathing still. And apparently, still somewhat conscious, as he looked at each person near him like this was very important news indeed. To them, it looked kind of like he was putting a curse on them.

Dib had been pondering something, after Slacks had mentioned something about shadows. He had turned away from the mauled Invader, and was observing the scenery once again. Something wasn't right about it. Something small. Insignificant.

"The clouds."

The others, which consisted of Red, Purple, Zim, and a few Resisty crewmen (Lard Nar and Gaz and the rest somewhere else, probably finding something important, like food) abruptly stared at the boy. Slacks just wheezed.

"What the hell are you going on about now?" Zim said darkly.

Dib pointed at the sky. "Clouds."

"We know that."

"No, no, I mean... isn't it kinda weird, how there are clouds out, but there's also shadows too? Don't shadows usually only occur with sunlight?"

They observed said phenomenon, remembering only too well Slacks' warning.

_Don't step in the shadows._

As though they heard the thought, the shadows ripped from their proper places, forming into seemingly Irken forms, the only things visible in the inky murk thousands of pairs of soulless white dots.

Zombies.

Hundreds of thousands of zombies.

* * *

Moo. It's full of stupid. But at least Purple gave me some paragraphs. And I got him to FREEEEK. -evil giggle-

R&R, y0.


	16. Escape

Chapter 16: Escape

* * *

"Invader Tenn... eliminated."

For once, since the "recovery" of the plans for the genetic infusion device, Black was alone. Really alone. Before then it was advisors, zombies, her son; an onslaught of information, questions, orders - but that was okay, she supposed. If they left her _completely_ alone, who knows what she would do to the universe. But they did have the sense to leave her at least _somewhat_ alone. Except Xix. Xix had no sense.

"Invader Stink... exterminated."

She was alone in one of the former Tallests' "playrooms", a sort of lounge. It had fourteen sofas, three beanbag chairs, innumerable snack machines, and one suspicious-looking closet with the word NAUGHTY painted on it in equally suspicious lettering. She wasn't using any of this, choosing instead to park her evil rear on the one swivel chair at the one desk she had set up herself, upon which were three monitors. One showed a mostly complete map of the universe, with little B's on the planets she had conquered already; another a list of Invaders and the planets they were stationed on; and the last one was feedback from a security camera from the genetic infusion device's chamber on Irk. Can't be too careful, regarding that.

"Invader Skutch... removed."

She let her eyes silently trail over the list. Every few minutes or so, a name would go dark. Left on the list were Slacks, Skoodge, and Lardnar. Below the list was a sort of miscellaneous file - it had two names, Tak and Zim. Both were dark, Tak's only because the computer had no idea where she was at that moment.

Zim was dead. Xix had gotten rid of him. She was sure of it.

But she has been wrong before...

She distracted herself from these kinds of thoughts by looking back to the first monitor, watching another little B pop up on a planet.

"Hmm..." She mused aloud. "If it continues at the current rate... universal conquest should be complete in about a week or two."

Basking in her evil, she almost didn't hear the soft sound of something padding across the ceiling. The something got about two feet away, then stopped. She waited for a moment to see if it would trod any closer, then she spoke. She didn't even look away from the monitors, expression unchanged.

"Get out of the ceiling, idiot."

"Aww..." Came the response, only slightly disheartened.

So much for being completely alone.

The something shifted noisily out of the ceiling, on purpose being that its cover was obviously blown, and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Moved that two feet and casually slung an arm over her shoulder. She stiffened, just a little. The other either didn't notice, or didn't care. Probably the second one. She cleared her throat.

"Took you long enough." She said, voice strangely matronly.

"I don't like rushing it," Xix replied, plunking his ass in a bean bag chair he'd pulled up beside her. "Takes the excitement away from killing things, rushing. You're lucky I had to protect my ship from the idiots I picked up. Would've took off with my ship if I'd left 'em to do it how I wanted."

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't care. "That's nice, dear."

"So..." Pulling out a knife and playing with it. "How close are we to being rulers of the universe and all that shit?"

"A week."

"Neat."

A moment of silence, in which Xix propped his metal-capped boots on the arm of her chair, a bit close to her own arm. She scowled, pushing them off like they were diseased. They probably were, considering the metal caps on them were still slathered in Irken blood. He didn't react, just sat there, grinning like a stupid loon. A very stupid loon.

"Go to the zombie holding pod." She told him through gritted teeth, desperate to break the silence herself before he said something else stupid and/or insane. "They haven't gotten the proper weapons."

The hybrid tilted his head, putting away the knife. "The Hobo squadron?"

She gave a brief, stiff nod.

"Yes, Mother." He got up and saluted, then appeared to melt into the floor. The shadow of the swivel chair rippled a bit, then tore in half, one half slithering up into the ceiling again. She frowned, brushing imaginary dirt from her shoulder where Xix's arm had been casually slung.

"And if you try to do that ninja thing on me again, I swear I'll eat your stinking head," She told the shadows.

"_I'll remember that, Mother!_" The shadows called back.

_Probably not, _she thought wryly, turning back to the monitors.

Just as Slacks' name went dark.

* * *

Dib was beginning to think he probably should have paid more attention when Gaz was playing those zombie games.

Of course, just having a shotgun or two from said games wouldn't hurt either.

The mass of shadow-zombie materialized, revealing countless black-eyed Irken soldiers, varying shades of zombie-green and all wearing about the same kind of uniform - black with a pair of dark gray stripes. They didn't move, at first, but then they started forward... slowly, but not the shambling walk of movie zombies. They were taking their time. And why shouldn't they? They outnumbered them by a billion to one.

"A machine gun would be nice," Dib said, looking up at the sky. "Or a bomb."

Zim shot him a dirty look. "No time for crazy, Dib-worm."

The other just muttered something like 'missiles are nice too'. He received a smack. The zombies only stared at them, unnerving anyone else out of a sadistic chuckle or two at this display of idiocy.

Slacks took this time to wheeze panickedly, obviously flashbacking to his near-death experience.

Every last zombie eye fixed upon him.

That was when Dib's conscience and general dislike of watching things die kicked in. He may be an Irken, like Zim, and he was probably going to die anyway, but he was still helpless. Mangled. Unable to escape a finishing blow by zombies. And even Irkens shouldn't end up as zombie chow.

Except Zim. No, wait, _he_ was supposed to kill Zim, not zombies. Doesn't mean he couldn't let 'em mangle him first.

These lovely thoughts distracting him from the stupidity of what he was about to do, the boy pushed past the Irkens (who moved, confused) to get to Slacks, running around to his head. The wounded Invader made a confused gurgle, glancing up at him. Blood ran down his chin. Dib sighed and put his hands under the other's arms, preparing to pick him up and flee, probably dragging the poor thing as he did.

That was when the others finally realized what he was trying to do. The zombies were moving closer, and faster. They realized as well. They weren't the stupid kind of zombies you get in movies and games...

"Dib! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Zim yelled at him.

The wind was starting to pick up. It was loud.

"He's helpless!"

"He's the one they want! You take him, they'll follow us!"

"I can't just leave him!"

"Yeah? Well, _we _can!" The little Invader prepared to run as he said this.

Red and Purple blinked, looking at each other, then Slacks, then Zim, then the zombies. They were thinking.

Then the zombies were suddenly right in front of them, almost like they had teleported. The think-time was cut short as the two instinctively ran. Zim started to follow them, then let out a cry of frustration and ran back, grabbing the back of Dib's jacket and started to run again, only the combined weight of a confused Dib and a wounded Slacks stopped him from going anywhere.

"Get his legs!" The boy cried.

"He's dead weight!" Zim snapped back. "We won't get anywhere with him!"

Before Dib could protest, the Irken kicked him sharply in the elbow, causing him to let go of Slacks' armpits out of shock. He renewed his grip on his archnemesis' jacket and fled before the other could pick up Slacks again. The wounded Irken in question let out a frightened wheeze as his "help" was dragged away from him. Then the zombies surrounded him.

Dib, still facing the doomed Slacks and the zombies, and Zim, glancing back to see if they were chasing them, happened to watch them dispose of their target. One gripped Slacks' head, four others grasping his arms and legs. He wheezed hard enough to get half a scream out, weakly struggling against them as they slowly pulled. And pulled. And pulled.

You ever heard the sound of someone being pulled apart? Of course you haven't. Imagine the sound of wet cloth being ripped apart - you can rip one apart yourself if you like. You'll get the general idea.

That, and the resulting thud as they dropped the remains of their target, as well as the actual sight of the thing being done, were very firmly imprinted into Dib's brain. That was the first real murder he's witnessed. Now he knows what Zim's insides would look like on the outside...

Zim wasn't nearly as affected by this as Dib - after all, he'd watched a giant blob monster eat two Tallests before and he got over it. When he was a scientist, he got to see a lot of things being mangled and mutilated in various ways. As long as it wasn't him, Zim really didn't care. And as long as they didn't try to do that to him as well. They were moving away from the remains of Slacks now.

Their target obliterated, they had other life to destroy before they could return to Black.

__

Mother's orders.

"What the hell?" He wondered aloud. How did he know that? And who the crap just said that?

Dib glanced back at him and managed to grin despite being still rather scarred for life. "Who's crazy _now_?"

"Shut up and run - you're slowing me down." He growled back, and let go of the other's jacket.

Dib obeyed, and they both ran like their asses were on fire.

Eventually they caught up to the Tallests, Gaz, and the Resisty crew, including Lard Nar. While Zim and Dib had been watching the demise of Slacks, the others had been busy dragging the Dibship away in order to use it without zombies clambering all over it. The reason why they hadn't is simple: they still needed Dib. Lard Nar, no longer grieving, had found out that the boy had accidentally programmed it against all aliens, not just Irkens. The hard way. He was still sizzling when the pair came up.

"Slacks is dead," Zim reported as Dib ran over to check his ship for damage.

"Kinda figured that, seeing as the zombies are coming for us now." Purple replied dryly.

"Anyway," Glancing toward the Dibship. "How the hell are we going to get off this rock? You wrecked the Snacky Cab--"

"_Us_?! You're the one who--"

"--and the only ship left is Tak's. Which, by the way, can only _sanely_ hold one."

"Maybe Slacks still has a ship left that isn't broken." Red offered.

Zim whipped his attention toward him. "Good! Get searching for it!"

The other scowled darkly at him.

"Oops, hehe, sorry, wrong Tallest," He said, laughing sheepishly, turning toward Purple. "You! Find that ship!"

"You gotta look too."

"Fine..." Turning toward Dib. "Distract those zombies with Tak's ship."

"What? Me?! But I--" He protested, as Zim then picked him up bodily and threw him into the Dibship's cockpit. "I've never worked the weapons in this thing before!"

"There's a first time for everything! Now get going!" He kicked the ship's nose with enough force as to jolt the ship. Dib jolted as well, and this surprise caused him to slam his hands on the controls in such a way as to cause the ship to go rocketing backwards toward the zombie horde. Zim could somewhat hear something like cursing in his direction as the ship rocketed away.

As he went about distracting the zombie army via swooping and shooting (which didn't really affect them, shooting - the shot zombies got up and shot back at him), the others went about looking. Except Red. He stood there and picked off zombies that got too close, which somewhat discouraged them, being that being shot is not fun, even if you're already dead.

Finally Purple found a ship - in the same way Zim had found the road back on Earth. He tripped on yet another conveniently placed rock and fell flat on his face, only his face found metal rather than dirt, and it impacted way before it should have. He got up, rubbing his jaw and hoping he hadn't permanently hurt something, then turned and gestured to the others. The Resisty crew surrounded the ship and pulled it out of where it was stuck, then they all looked it over for damage.

"Engine's shot," Red observed bluntly. "Looks like a couple of fuel cells are empty too."

"Oh, come on..." Purple whined.

The other ignored him, suddenly plunging halfway into the engine compartment. They couldn't see what he was doing in there, but he had to be doing something. Purple saw part of a spider leg from the angle he was standing at.

Then Red pulled himself out and retracted his spider legs, covered in engine grease from head to waist.

"Try starting it up." He said, not really targeting it at one person.

Surprisingly enough Lard Nar was the one to obey, and when he did, it actually worked. But it still had two empty fuel cells, so when they tried to get it to fly, it wouldn't. So then Red had another brilliant idea - he hooked GIR up to the fuel cells. When they tried to get it to fly again, it flew. The crimson-eyed Tallest grinned, wiping grease off his face.

"Behold," He said, gesturing grandly at the ship as it landed again. "The first ship ever to run off of pure stupidity."

"Hotdogs!" The fuel compartment cried happily.

"Bet it would fly like a racer if we put Zim in there," Purple mused as they loaded into it.

"Bet it would fly faster than that if we put _you _in there," Zim retorted coldly.

"Tough noodles, squirt - I won't fit."

"Not in one piece, at least."

"Now, now, children," Red said. "We've still got to get off this rock. We can't do that while you're fighting like two-year-olds - it's very distracting."

"Yes it is." Lard Nar agreed, happily seated in the pilot's chair.

The former Tallest shot him a look that probably could have dissolved flesh from bone.

"Get out of my seat. I'm flyin'."

"Make me, Irken scum - you killed my ship, so I've got dibs on this one."

"Dib!" Zim cried, reminded by the word. "He's still distracting the zombies!"

"So what? Leave 'im."

There was a rather loud and painful crack as Gaz broadsided Purple's head with her game.

"Nebermind, less go get the liddle freak." Purple slurred, dazed.

"That's better." She said, going back to playing the game.

After a small tussle between Red and Lard Nar over the pilot's seat (Red won), they moved back toward the zombie swarm, where the Dibship wasn't flying all that good - and not just because Dib was a bad pilot. It was smoking from where the zombies had shot it, and it was getting closer and closer to the army itself, which sometimes went shadow in order to swipe at it.

Zim slammed his fist on the communication button beside Red.

"Dib!" He yelled into it. "Stop distracting! Time to go!"

Static came back, but the ship wobbily flew over to them, where Slacks' ship captured it. The Dibship safely in the hold, they shot away as the zombie mass went shadow and swiped again, finally leaving the atmosphere. The zombies rematerialized, watched the ship as it left, then one pressed a button on the side of its glove, which made a soft beep.

Back in space, our happy crew was mulling over what had just happened, Red putting the ship on autopilot to mull with them.

"Okay... anyone want to guess why Black sent zombies after Slacks?" Purple started. "Anyone?"

"'Cause... she's evil?" Zim offered.

"Besides that."

"He said she was going to replace him. What if she's doing that to all the other Invaders?"

"Taking over the universe with mindless, emotionless drones." A pause. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Red deadpanned.

"Because _competently_ mindless drones are hard to come by." He gestured toward Zim. Zim made a face that said he had stopped caring since Purple had made that crack on him earlier. "Well, anyway..."

Whatever the former Tallest was going to say died on his lips as he realized the others weren't paying attention. Or, rather, paying attention to something behind him. Their collective "mindless drone" stares, complete with drool, caused him swivel his seat back toward the front. What he saw there could have either been a blessing or a curse. Not idiot-stare inducing, but still quite a surprise.

It was the underside of a ship. But not just any ship.

"The Massive." Purple breathed.

* * *

**EDITATION:** I change end part because 17 eez dumbass.

Happy sweet sixteen, Avarice. -lamely throws confetti at it-

Dude, that sounds like it's sixteen years old. Naw, just sixteen chapters. Which, by the way, I might make into a more enjoyable comic soon. On DeviantART. You people who actually like me will be pleased. Or not. My psychic abilities haven't quite developed that far yet - I can only make the toaster dance.

There's only so many times you can watch an appliance do the robot.

Read, review, wipe your ass with the keyboard and submit that, I don't care.

P.S.: Don't ask about Zim's moment of schizo. Just hypothesize. You people like hypothesizing. My sister does, anyway.


	17. Invasion

Chapter 17: Invasion

* * *

It was warm.

Dark.

_Something_ kept dripping on him.

And the stench was almost unbearable.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't a colon Dib was mucking through, or at least, not a living thing's colon. It was a waste chute, according to the Irkens; otherwise known as a garbage chute or "shit hole", somewhere in the bowels of the Massive. And luckily, the boy wasn't the only one mucking through it – all of the Irkens were squirming along in front of him, as well as that weird goat guy with the goggles and the jumpsuit. Behind him were Gaz and all those other unimportant people.

Unluckily, the Irken closest to him was Tallest Red. That meant that as well as crawling through muck that went up to his elbow in some places, one of the large feet attached to those long legs would smash into his face and get muck all over his glasses every couple of inches. Not so bad since he really didn't need his glasses in pitch-black darkness, but it was all over his nose and trying its damnedest to get to his lips, as well as the accompanying pain of having the living equivalent of a shovel slammed into his nose. Then one of those pointy goaty feet would take a stab at his eyes when the other guy shifted positions on Red's ass (not a bad way to travel through this crap when you think about it) – at the very least, he only did that every once in a while, as opposed to the every-few-inches-foot-smashing.

Not fun. Not fun at all. He'd almost prefer to waltz in the front door and be ripped apart by Black – that'd smell better, anyway.

Earlier, the Irkens decided, on a whim, to crawl up one of these kind of like how heroes usually go for air ducts in action movies. Zim went first because of the implants in his eyes that came from being an Invader, then Purple just to be an asshole, then Red to make sure Purple didn't kill their only source of direction (no matter how justified the rage), then the goaty guy attached to Red's ass as to keep from crawling through the muck like everyone else, then Gaz had pushed _him_ in, then she crawled in as well, then all the other people sort of.. dived in at once. He could hear them squabbling back there, and could have sworn one just wolf whistled at his sister.

He'd lost all sense of time in there. They could have been in there anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. His arms and legs ached. His eyes burned and watered from the stink and the pain in his nose. His face hurt. He felt like he was going to throw up at any moment, a feeling that caused him to pause once or twice and try and breathe into his trench coat collar without breathing in more stink.

And he didn't even know what half this crap was, so he might have started to develop cancer for all he knew. There might be a tumor growing in his stomach even as he holds down more bile...

"Hey, guys," He managed, voice muffled a bit by his collar.

"Eh?" One of the Irkens in front of him grunted back. Sounded like Purple.

Gaz nudged his ass and he had to keep crawling. "This stuff... isn't radioactive, is it?"

A pause, where the only sounds were breathing and the slopping of the muck.

"Ermmm... if you start glowing, then the answer is yes."

Dib shot a flat look toward the general direction of his voice. "Thanks. That really helps me to think I'm not going to drop dead from radiation."

"You're welcome!"

After that, nothing but squish, squish, squish.

He stopped paying attention to where he was crawling after a while, one turn, two turns, what felt like a U-turn, squiggly turns, a hill (that one had more shit to tumble into his face, and it smelled a little like rancid donut), he just went. Mindlessly crawling along and trying not to puke, trying not to slip.

This last he did anyway, and he was pretty sure his face landed on Red's ass, as it was too big and squishy to belong to the goaty guy. The squishy thing tensed, and he heard a growl from its owner. He scrambled back as fast as the muck would allow him to go without backing into Gaz, then the monotony of crawling along continued.

Squish, squish, squish.

Slop, slop, slop.

Squish, squish, squish.

"Whose idea WAS this?" Purple again.

"Yours, genius."

"... oh."

Slop, slop, slop.

Squish, squish...

After a while of mindlessly crawling, his mind came back. Snapped awake, if you will. Just in time to realize that he couldn't hear any squishing but his own mucky limbs, no breathing but his own labored breath.

He was alone.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to be alone, only that one second he wasn't, the next he was.

He stopped, allowing himself to sit down in the muck and try to ignore the feeling of the muck seeping into his pants. He had to think. They couldn't have gone far... but this place was a labyrinth, and he didn't know how long ago he got separated. There was just... nothing there between point A to point B. The others could have already gotten into the Massive's main part for all he knew.

"Damn it," He mumbled at himself. "Out in the middle of space, deep inside an alien ship, and you get lost. Jeezus, Dib, you're really racking up on stupid points today."

A soft groan as he pushed himself back into mucking position, first pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose so he wouldn't end up losing them. He really didn't want to keep doing this. But if he stayed there, he'd probably end up suffocating to death from the stink, and if not that, starve. He already felt light-headed and woozy from all those damn fumes...

Forcing himself to move forward, slowly, while continuing to talk to himself.

"No, you can't faint. If you faint, you're not going to wake up. You'll drown in garbage, and everyone on Earth will laugh at your funeral." Pausing to keep from throwing up, then slowly dragging himself on. "Your gravestone will read 'here lies Dib – he wanted to die in an explosion or battling against aliens in space, but instead he drowned in garbage. Point and laugh, children, point and laugh.' That's exactly what it'll say, and Dad'll have to raise Gaz like a son instead of a daughter, which is kind of what he was doing anyway but—"

His external monologue was interrupted by a rather abrupt tumbling out and down into another rather dark place. It wasn't pitch black, though, and it smelled... well... different. Not as bad as in the chute, but there was a certain disgusting flavor to it...

He took this time to clean his glasses off as well as he could, sliding them back on to discover he probably should have gone on seeing through garbage.

Bodies.

Irken bodies.

Stacked, chained up, cut up, one was pinned to the wall like a captured butterfly... she looked a little like a butterfly, delicately curled antennae and all that, and besides the pin, was relatively intact. In fact, most of these bodies only had one fatal wound on them. Of course, the wound resembled either claw marks or teeth marks...

Besides the bodies, there were bones. There were bones scattered all over the floor. Also Irken. It was almost like wandering into the den of a lion or bear or something, and seeing all of the remains of its natural prey as decoration. Only they were stripped clean, not a scrap of meat left, as if the creature responsible was either extremely thorough or extremely hungry.

He remembered the information he'd wheedled out of Zim earlier... an evil black-eye thing that makes a habit of eating Irkens...

These Irkens were eaten, all right.

That could only mean one thing.

He was in her lair.

* * *

Being a janitorial drone was better than being an Invader, in his opinion.

All you have to do is clean stuff and replace stuff. That's it. No one makes you go conquer planets, no one disbelieves YOU are the one that conquered it and therefore send you hurtling into the planet's face, no one sends you to a death camp headed by a crazy person, no one then attempts to kill you by throwing you to a meat-thirsty Hogulus at said death camp, and finally, no one makes fun of you for being short and fat because that's just how drones are. It's an accepted thing in Irken society.

Best of all, he could use all the things from his days as an Invader to help with his janitorial work and no one would stop him. How cool is that?

All in all, Skoodge had it made.

The corpse he just found in the hallway... that was a different story.

It was a headless thing, the rotted and disfigured remains of a technician, and it was surrounded by crusted pieces of something that looked like it used to be slimy. It was just... there. He supposed it fell from the ceiling. It would explain the weird gunk all around it, whatever that used to be.

It looked a lot less scary than it did when he first glimpsed it. He blamed the dimness of the hallways. Honestly, did Tallest Black really expect him to do his work well if the lights weren't even on enough to see properly? All it really did was make him scrub harder at messes that the darkness made worse... maybe she was trying to get him to clean deeper by blinding him.

Or maybe she was just stupid.

All of that aside, it was still there, and it wasn't going to get rid of itself. He sighed, hoisting it up and dumping it into his cart, wheeling boredly toward a nearby waste chute. He didn't have the time or the effort to go all the way down to the crematorium, so the poor bastard would just have to float aimlessly in space for the rest of eternity.

"C'est la vie," He told the thing, shaking his head and pretending to be sad, glancing over where its face would be and imagining it having a rather kicked puppy-like expression. "I'd keep you if I could, but you're already stinking and infested with maggots."

And with that, he hoisted it up, and prepared to chuck it down the chute...

But something stopped him.

He could hear voices. Not the kind you go get your head checked for, either. Real live ones. And... rather familiar ones, too. He could have sworn he'd heard Tallest Purple, but he knew that was impossible, since, apparently, Black killed him.

... or did she?

He wasn't given much more time to ponder this before an Irken head popped out of the chute, followed by some arms. It stopped midway through pulling the rest of itself out, and he realized, with a little bit of horror, that it was Zim.

"Oh, eh, hey there, Skoodge," He said, smiling sunnily. "Nice corpse."

Skoodge blinked. "Thank... you...?"

The other opened his mouth to say something else, then was suddenly and violently cast out the rest of the way, face impacting against the floor with a rather loud crack. The cause tugged itself out the same way Zim had, and the ex-Invader nearly had a heart attack.

Tallest Purple.

"The hell were you just sitting there for, Zim?" He snapped at the little figure still lying face down on the floor, crossing his arms over the lip of the chute and glaring at him. "Your ass was suffocating me. I could have DIED."

"Speaking of suffocation by asses..." Another voice grunted, unmistakably Tallest Red.

Purple frowned and hauled himself out, and only then noticed Skoodge gawking at him. He just stared back, even as Red poked his head out of the chute, raising an eyeridge before shrugging and following his co-leader.

"Um, sir," Skoodge managed, pointing at Red's nether regions. "You, uh... have a thing..."

The crimson-eyed Tallest glanced where the smaller's finger was pointing, and saw without surprise Lard Nar was still tightly attached to his rear end, almost for dear life. The Vortian looked a bit spooked... claustrophobic, perhaps?

He poked his head. "Hey. Heyyyyy."

"Wha-huh?"

"You can get off the ride now."

The other just climbed down Red's legs without a single snappy comeback, gripping his own shoulders about as tight as he'd had gripped the Tallest's ass. Red sighed and patted his little goaty head, then looked over all who had come out...

Just Zim, himself, Purple, and the claustrophobic Resisty captain. The two pink things were gone, as well as… pretty much all of Lard's crew. Their manpower, while small to begin with, was even smaller now. He couldn't possibly count Skoodge; they'd only just found the bastard.

As if the thought was some kind of cue, said bastard chunked the corpse he'd been holding the entire time into the chute... he sort of recognized that corpse, but then again, not all corpses are missing their heads, so it'd be hard to mix them up.

"I was waiting to see if anyone else would come out," Skoodge explained.

"That's nice, dear," Purple drawled back, poking at Zim with a foot. "Get up, you've had worse. We've gotta kill Black, remember?"

"The smell..."

"Your ass smelled a lot worse." Straight out kicking him, which ended up sending him flying into Skoodge's cart. Purple blinked. "...whoops. Sorry about that."

The little Invader poked his head up out of the cart, what looked to be a rather filthy rag hanging off an antenna. He either didn't notice it, or didn't care, as rather than doing anything about it, he just glared at Purple. His 'victim' just stuck his tongue out at him and made rude gestures with his hands.

Red snorted. "Anyway, now that Stupid Idiot Theatre is over –"

"Hey!" The other two chorused.

"—we need a plan of action." Looking toward Purple. "You'll be in charge of contacting the Armada." Before he could protest, Red's attention went toward Zim. "You... well, do what you do best."

"Blow shit up?"

"Yeah. Blow shit up. Don't get too carried away and blow the Massive to smithereens – we just need her disabled, not dead."

"What about you?"

He straightened up a bit, all important-like. "I'm going to look for her zombie factory and put a stop to that. If I can't find it, I'll either join Zim in blowing shit up, or just find Black and see if I can kill her myself."

This last sounded a bit more confident than he meant it to, as really, he had no idea if anyone could stop that bitch. He'd been the one she'd straight out killed, after all, and their battle had taken mere seconds before its grim conclusion... never mind that he'd been at a disadvantage in the dark and not even knowing what the hell to kill, but—

"What about the Dib and his scary sister? And all those other people?" Zim interrupted, head tilted slightly to the side.

Red frowned, scratching beside an antenna. "I... really don't know. If you find 'em, they can help blow things up or something. If not, well, at least the ship'll be less crowded if we have to retreat." Clearing his throat and ignoring the look the little Invader was giving him. "Now, let's go before she finds out we're here."

"What about me?" Lard Nar asked, arms crossed. "I noticed you conveniently skipped me."

The Tallest just stared at him. "I don't know, and I don't care. Go crawl around in the air ducts like a ninja or some shit. Maybe she'll find and kill you first."

"... lovely."

After that, they started to move away...

Skoodge blinked. "S-sir!" Saluting like he did in his Invader days.

"Huh-wha?" Red glanced back.

"Requesting permission to assist your miserable plight, my Tallest!"

Another bout of staring... then he just shrugged. "Fine. Pick somebody to tag along with that's preferably not me."

Without waiting for another response, Red walked away, followed by Lard Nar. He decided to just let the Vortian stalk him, at least until he found a good place the ditch the little bastard. Purple went in a different direction. Zim stayed in the cart... Skoodge would be tagging along with him, then. Just like old times.

"You better not blow me up too, Zim," The ex-Invader sighed, wheeling the cart along.

Zim grinned. "Only if you get in the way."

"I'm so assured."

"Well, think of it this way – you'll go out in style! AND at the hands of the great and powerful ZIM!"

Just like old times, indeed.

* * *

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of the Massive...

"Umm, guys... I think we're stuck." Said Spleenk, squirming against some of the other aliens. "I can't move."

Shloonktapoonxis grinned. "This is so COOL!"

Everyone else just groaned.

* * *

Whee! A new chapter of Avvy! And you thought it was dead!

I was playing around with what'll happen laaaaaater and my brain was like "WHY DON'T YOU WRITE IT THEN INSTEAD OF WATCHING THE NEET BLEACH-STYLE MENTAL VIDEOS?!" ... so I did.

Dib's part was written in the AM's, starting at 3, the rest was written at a saner but still dark time.

What DID happen to Gaz? What's going to happen to Dib? Find out in the next chapter. Unless it takes me eons to write that one, too, in which case, USE YOUR IMAGINATION.

Eight or so pages, not bad.


	18. Confrontation

Chapter 18: Confrontation

* * *

"Everything's in order. Everything's _perfectly_ in order."

Xix had gone to the zombie holding pod, as she'd wanted him to do, a place formerly known as a snack pod and still held the aroma of food. He had made sure every last stinking living corpse was armed. He had even gone over commands with them, which in truth were merely motions of a hand or a snap or a dark look in their direction or in some cases, a wayward thought.

"There's no reason for me to be here. None at all."

He was marching back and forth in front of the zombies, arms behind his back and head downcast, antennae flickering with every pondering and wondering his mind could come across, eyes narrowing as the thoughts drew to their rather unwanted conclusion.

"... she must have lied."

He stopped, folding his arms in front of him and glaring at the zombies, which only stared back, uncomprehending. He could hear Stupid marching up behind him, and when it stopped he grabbed it by its neck, not even bothering to turn around. Being a zombie, it wouldn't fight back unless he told it to.

"Why would Mother lie to me? I've been good! I've done everything she's told me and then some!" He felt his anger slipping. He couldn't hate her. "If she'd wanted me to leave, she could have just told me. It's not hard. 'Xix, get the fuck away from me. Xix, stop playing in the shadows. Xix—'"

A pause, in which he was going to continue to impersonate the one creature he might love, but he was distracted by the rather close scent of food. He frowned and finally turned toward his captive 'pet', and saw that the undead bastard had a bag of chips in one hand and was mindlessly munching on them. Munching! A zombie!

He growled and snatched the bag away from it, and thought it looked a little sad afterward. "You don't need this, you're a fucking ZOMBIE for Mother's sake!" He started munching on some himself, letting go of Stupid and turning away. He couldn't see it, but Stupid was weakly clawing at its former possession. "Where the hell did you get these anyway? We cleared out this stupid place of all the—"

Something completely different than food distracted him then.

A voice. A grumbling female voice, outside the pod. And the scent... the scent was all wrong. Neither Irken nor zombie nor his beloved Mother. It was unlike any other stink he'd whiffed.

"Mmm, looks like we have an intruder on board," He purred, starting to grin.

The zombies just stared, and Stupid finally gave up on its chips. He turned and saluted to them as though they could possibly care, then went to slink into the shadows...

"Wait, before I go." Turning back to them.

A mass of uncomprehending stares.

"Down." They went down into the shadows. "Up." Rematerialized. "Left." Shifted left. "Right." Shifted right.

His grin got wider.

"Up down left right A-B-B-A start turkey alphabet ping pong wee haw dee dee dee oinka doinka doinka!"

They stared for a second or two, glanced at each other... then just dropped.

He laughed. "Fail!"

They rematerialized, and he slunk into the shadows.

This would be fun. Hell, he could already feel his mood uplifting. Too bad the intruder wouldn't last long enough for him to get any true enjoyment...

* * *

Unlike Dib, Gaz had not landed herself in the middle of the proverbial lion's den.

Too bad that's what she had been aiming for.

Now, even worse, the poor girl was forced to face the terrifying, gruesome, dangerous ... hallway.

This wasn't "hallway of spooky entities, monsters, etc"; this was "hallway of absolutely nothing as far as the eye can see". If she had only gone one more stinking tunnel over, she might have been straight in the middle of the action, face to face with the creature that Irkens couldn't conquer.

Well, from what she'd seen, Irkens couldn't conquer a paper bag.

But still. Action. Excitement. Danger. Like a video game but a hell of a lot more exciting because you don't get to cheat, and you only have one life. She wouldn't mind it much if she had some of the weapons available in her games, but that wasn't the point. In fact, not having any made it a bit more exciting, and changed the genre of this living game from "mindless action" to "survival horror".

Now if the horror would actually show up...

"Stupid Dib," She grumbled, kicking away one of the main enemies she'd found on this level, the empty soda can. "Stupid Irkens. Stupid spaceship. Stupid trash hole. Stupid trash _maze_."

Unlike her brother, she had had enough time to mostly clean herself of all the disgusting shit she'd had to wade through. You almost couldn't tell she'd been down in there at all unless you got up close and saw the slight grease in her hair, and the dampened end of her dress where she'd had to scrub out some of the junk. She smelled less like garbage, anyway.

Kicking away another can, not being stealthy because as far as she could see, there was nothing to be wary of, as the scenery hadn't changed at all save a large, probably locked door she just passed. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. I hope they die. I hope Black tears out their organs and twists their spines into a double helix."A pause, and she snorted. "Only if I'm watching. Hell, I can help her."

Imagining this, she almost didn't notice the sounds of... something creeping along behind her. And she probably wouldn't have noticed it at all, except for the fact that it sounded like it was on the ceiling.

She stopped. Waited.

Then suddenly leapt aside just as _something _slammed into the floor where she had been seconds earlier, landing about a foot away and almost losing her balance once her feet were back on the floor.

The "thing" turned out to be that ugly black-eyed Irken thing that had popped up at the last second on their transmission with Black. The first thing she noticed was that his claws were buried deep into the metal in the spot she'd just left. Then the fact that he was grinning at her, a head-splitting grin just as ugly as he was, revealing too many pointed teeth, his ugly shark eyes dancing with amusement.

"You're quick, little girl," He purred, tugging his claws out of the floor and glancing casually toward the holes left in the metal. "That would have probably killed you."

Gaz just snorted, crossing her arms and squinting at him, looking completely unimpressed. "Yeah, right. This ship's a piece of crap. Anybody could do that."

He tilted his head slightly to the side, that crazed grin still plastered on his pale features. "Oh really? I'd ask for a demonstration, but there's a better way to make you bleed." Pulling himself to his feet, not even standing straight up and already towering over her – not nearly as tall as the other two she'd came with, but close enough from this perspective. "Now, tell me, little alien – what color DO you bleed?"

Before she could come up with a sarcastic response or even move away, he was suddenly inches away from her face, claws wrapped tightly around her throat and getting tighter by the second. The only sound she could make was a gurgled wheeze, and even then, she probably shouldn't make it with the distinct lack of air that could get into her lungs.

"Maybe I should take a look at your brains, too," Slamming her against the wall, the hand not wrapped around her throat idly dancing over her head, claws dangerously close to her eyes. "Or just take your little beady alien eyes... Mother says I shouldn't eat them, but they do have a certain gross flavor to them..."

She squirmed against the hand, lungs struggling to find oxygen, head starting to feel light... she kicked at him, aiming for that stupid grin. It connected, but he just grinned wider, and suddenly pain soared up her leg as those countless pointed teeth closed around her ankle. She could see blood dribbling down his chin... red blood. Her blood. She hadn't seen herself bleed since she was 3.

She was pretty sure the bastard was going to eat that leg. Whether it was attached or not, he was going to fucking _eat it_.

That in mind, she snapped her head down and dug her own teeth, not nearly as pointy but still able to do SOME damage (she hoped), as deep into whatever part of his hand was closest to her as she could, aiming to break the skin. Her mouth filled with something warm – as opposed to the lack of heat of the hand itself inside the glove – and tasted so vile and disgusting that she almost puked while she held her grip. It was like... biting into a corpse.

He let go of both neck and leg, surprisingly enough, although the sound elicited by the wound was a purr, rather than a hiss. She fell to the floor and wheezed, immediately spitting out the blood, which as it splattered on the floor and dribbled down his hand she noticed it was as black as his eyes.

"Mmm, not on the first date, love," He said, almost affectionately, tongue just as black as eyes and blood slipping out to clean up the mixture of red and black liquid on his face. Then he moved to either repeat the earlier strangling motion, or something else entirely...

As if by instinct, she coiled her wounded leg back, and propelled it into his groin, remotely hoping Irkens were built like humans in that respect.

Well, if they were or weren't, he still gave the same, fall-down-and-curl-up reaction so many other males had done before him, although his eyes said he was enjoying every minute of the pain even as his lips pulled back in more of a snarl than the obnoxious grin.

Seconds after she'd kicked, she ran.

Technically, she hobbled. But she wasn't letting the wounded leg slow her down at all, even as blood soaked through her stocking and into her boot and splattered along the floor behind her, pain shooting up that half of her body with every shift of weight in its direction. She was running to find weapons. Something that could actually kill that crazed alien. If nothing else, even if she hated to admit it, she could find help.

She heard crazed laughter far behind her, and ran a little faster. He was already recovering. She'd hoped he'd stay down until she found something, but no...

A smaller door than the first she'd passed way earlier appeared, and just as instinctively as she'd kicked him, she ducked into it, hoping to find a weaponry cache or something.

It was only a janitor's closet. And it appeared to be occupied.

The occupant was another Irken, pressed tightly against the wall with his knees to his chest, wearing what looked like either purple robes or a dress. Unlike Zim, the crazyface, or the really tall ones, his pack thingy was on his chest. His eyes weren't black, but darkish purple, and they were wide and terrified and fixed on her, floppy antennae pinned tightly to his head. He was shaking like a leaf, and looked as if to start screaming in a minute.

"Shh," She said. as assuring as she could, which probably wasn't much as he mewed and shrank down a bit. She frowned. "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't freak out." If he freaked out, that'd alert the crazy one to where she was, and she didn't have any weapons yet.

"Y-y-you—you're an alien—we're being invaded—" He stammered fearfully, eyes growing even wider, and the hint of tears appeared at their corners. "D-don't kill me or probe me please!"

She slapped a hand over his mouth at the last outburst, which was rather loud. He froze, whimpering softly and looking all the world like he expected her to kill him. It was rather pathetic. "Shh, dammit." She grunted, not at all assuring now. "I already_ told _you, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to stay here until that crazy bastard either gives up or gets out of range. Okay?"

He looked even more scared at the mention of the 'crazy bastard' – apparently he already knew who she was talking about. Then he weakly nodded, still watching her warily.

"Now, I'm going to let go of you, and if you start screaming or freaking out, I _will _hurt you. Got it?"

Another terrified nod.

"Good." She let go of his mouth, and he immediately bit his lip and squinched his eyes shut, probably stopping himself from screaming. Or he had constipation. Either way, he was quiet.

"S-sorry, Miss Alien... I'll be good, I promise." He whispered after a while, and it sounded like something one would say just to keep from getting killed. "You're... you're not gonna eat me either, are you...?"

"One, the name's Gaz, and two, Irkens'd probably taste gross." She frowned.

"T-Tallest Black... says... we taste really good... she... she says I'd make a sweet little snack... an' just looking at me makes her hungry..." He squinched his eyes shut and bit his lip again. "... I'm Argo."

"Then she's sick, and pleased to meet you. Now where the hell do you people keep your weapons?"

"Weapons're bad." He mumbled.

She glared at him, and he flinched away like she slapped him. "Well, I kinda need some if I'm going to kill that crazyface Irken out there that almost ate my leg." Which now hurt a lot more since she'd mentioned it.

He peered down at it. "You oughta get that fixed. If you don't, you might get sick and die, 'cause... he doesn't brush his teeth." When she glared again for dodging the IMPORTANT part of the statement, he flinched again. "Umm, umm, there's... there's... there's a weapons vault around here somewhere. I can't remember where it is 'cause Crimmy wouldn't let me near it."

She groaned. The first not-Zim, not-Tallest, not-crazyface Irken she meets, and he's totally useless.

He seemed to pick up on this, as his antennae lowered a bit and his expression went from terrified to scared and sad, somewhat like a kicked puppy. "I'm really sorry... I'd... I'd help you if I could... I used to know where it is..." Getting a bit more upset and frantic, as if she'd started to cry or something. "I-I could, um, I could... I could help you look for it... I could even carry you there since you're hurt..."

She gave an exasperated sigh, just about ready to slap him. "Don't start crying or anything, jeez. We'll work something out."

"O-okay." A pause, and he shifted nervously. "Could... you pet me?"

She stared at him like he was breathing fire and eating babies. "... what the hell."

"N-never mind, bad idea, you might hurt 'em—"

Gaz was about to ask what he meant – because "'em" in her mind could be either antennae or something she wasn't about to touch – when she heard footsteps. Very slow, taking their time. There was no doubt who they belonged to, even before she heard him speak.

"Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaare..."

Argo nearly jumped out of his skin, and honestly, she couldn't blame him – that even sent a shudder up _her _spine.

She pressed a finger to her lips in the time-honored 'shh' motion toward him, then without waiting for his reaction she climbed behind some old janitorial suits and cleaning products, hiding herself in just the right way that she could see Argo and the door, and as she noticed the Irken was looking around frantically for her, she couldn't be seen.

The closet door suddenly slammed open, causing said Irken to squeak and jump, immediately pressing himself tighter against the wall. He probably had that same terrified look she'd come in on.

Crazyface gave his trademark ugly grin, a bit wider than with Gaz. "Oh, hello there, little bitch," He said in that same affectionate tone, leaning down to pull Argo up onto his knees by his neck, not yet strangling the poor thing. "Honestly, you've GOT to find better hiding places – this is the same place you were yesterday. Tsk tsk. It's like you _want_ me to find you."

"I-I'm sorry! I really don't!" He squeaked, trembling even worse than he had been earlier.

"How about we finish our game, hm? I seem to recall you running away before the fun really started..." Tugging Argo a bit closer, and only then did she realize that he was practically covered in bandages – wrapped around his stomach, his arms, even his neck as a little bit of cloth visible between those deadly black-clad claws.

The other just whimpered pathetically, antennae flattening tightly to his head. Crazyface laughed and tightened his grip, making him squeak again and squirm. "Actually, dear, I've come for a much different prize. A little alien girl. I saw her go this way, and even now I can smell her stink. You wouldn't happen to know where she is..." Tightening his grip to the choking point, face inches from the other's, looking rather pissed. "..._would you?_"

Even if he was just a useless, scaredy alien, Argo _had _offered to help her, and so she couldn't let that bastard kill him. She could barely stand to watch him hurt him. Normally she liked watching this kind of crap, but Crazyface took it too far.

And so, without thinking, she turned and grabbed the nearest, heaviest object in her little hidey-hole, and slammed it into his skull. He actually dropped, letting go of Argo on his way to slumping to the floor, a bit of black blood seeping out of a rather large impact mark on the side of his head. She glanced toward what she'd picked up, and snorted – it was a fucking fire extinguisher. No wonder he went down so fast.

"Is... is he dead?" Argo whimpered after he'd recovered, cautiously poking him in the head.

"No. He's still breathing." She went to hit him again to change that, but found just lifting the damn thing hurt her arms. Stupid adrenaline. "Damn." Tossing the extinguisher aside. "Let's go before he wakes up. He probably won't stay down for long."

"But—"

"Now!" And without letting him protest, she grabbed his scrawny alien wrist and tugged him bodily out of the closet, basically dragging him down the hall as she was running.

He yelped and thrashed, trying to get to his feet but never finding a good footing while in motion. "W-wait! I can run! Promise!"

She let go of him and kept going, only to be suddenly scooped up and carried like a bride, going at about the same speed. She growled and smacked him – surprisingly lightly – upside the head, making him yelp and almost drop her.

"At least give me some warning, stupid." She grunted.

"Sorry, but s'really hard to say 'I'm gonna pick you up now' while you're making my face say hi to the floor."

He had a point. She just shrugged. "Just don't drop me, and don't you dare stop running until we find the vault unless you want him to catch up. Got it?"

"Got it!"

"Good." She relaxed just a bit, staring at the wound on her leg. She should have that looked at. It was still hurting and felt like it was burning just a bit. Maybe that stupid bastard had rabies or something. She made a mental note to clean it up when they got out of his range.

"I could fix that for you..."

"Shut up and keep running."

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

* * *

"You'll be in charge of contacting the Armada, blah blah blah," Purple grumbled, walking down a hallway, completely devoid of anything of interest. It had been that way for the past thirty minutes, and already he was sick and tired of it – at least if something showed up to try and kill him, he'd have a _good_ reason for his calves to ache. Fuck this 'walking is good cardio' crap.

"I'm gonna go kill zombies and blow shit up and destroy Black all by myself, blah blah," The pointedly obnoxious imitation of his co-ruler continued. "See how much testosterone I can spew, blah blah, you can't do this stuff 'cause you're not _manly _and _macho _like manly macho me, ha ha, blah blah... that bastard's going to get himself killed and roasted over a spit, I swear." He sighed and shook his head, then snorted. "And I'll be first in line for a fucking drumstick. Move over, zombies, that one's mine; where do you keep the ketchup? Extra fries and potato _fucking_ salad, please."

He stopped, frowning a bit.

"Fuck."

Nothing happened. Zim wasn't following him. He was a free bird.

A free bird with aching calves, sore feet, and absolutely no directional sense whatsoever, but a free bird all the same.

No more random shots in the face by that water pistol every time he used his favorite curse. No more meaningless, stupid arguments that usually led to either embarrassment or physical harm. No more stupid side quests caused by blind idiocy. No more little annoyances tricking him, crawling up his back, and riding him like a cheap whore. No more constant Zim-chatter in his antennae. No more Zim. No more Zim. No_. _More. _Zim!_

He even danced to celebrate... which caused his legs to remind him that they hurt, which then reminded the floor that it should be as cold and as hard as possible for the Tallest's ass to land on.

A soft, pathetic mew, quite unlike the fury of earlier, escaped him, and he just sat there.

"How did I ever DO this crap before I was a Tallest?" He whined, stretching out his legs no matter how much that hurt them more. The poor things had gotten too used to the hover belts, just like their owner – they felt like they were going to fall off. "All this fucking _walking _– it's not transportation, it's torture! I... I can't take it." His antennae lowered, and he felt like he was going to start crying in a second. Pretty pathetic, but that's pain for you.

He stopped staring at the aching, burning limbs and turned his attention toward the still-broken hover belts. He hadn't been able to fix them with all of the walking and the cramped up ships and excitement and all of that shit – it made him forget. Stupid adrenaline. But now... now he was alone, as far as he knew, and maybe, even though he'd always been bad at repairs, he could try that now... he couldn't very well track down Red and drag him away from his macho manly zombie takedown to do it, and like hell was he going to let anyone else out of their motley crew even touch them.

Purple sighed, rummaging in the pockets inside them and finding only two cents and a gumball. Popping the latter in his mouth he rummaged in his PAK, and came up with a really icky-looking screwdriver he'd stolen from Red years and years ago.

"Here goes nothing," He mumbled, and set about trying to fix 'em, trying to ignore a sudden chilled feeling in his spine. That meant either Black, zombies, or some other bad shit like donuts ceasing to be made and sold...

That in mind, he worked a bit more frantically, until finally there was a soft whirr, and then humming, and then his bruised ass was lifted up those precious inches off the floor. He blinked, then gave a happy little squee, putting the screwdriver away. He couldn't believe it – he'd actually fixed something! All by himself! Take _that_, manly macho man, and have fun still WALKING everywhere!

He got up, and did his victory dance proper. "Go me, go me, uh-huh, it's my birthday, mmhm, no walkin', just floatin', oh yeah, I'm awesome, go—"

Interrupted by nearly running into one of Black's zombies mid-dance.

You could almost hear the record for his mental music come to a screeching halt.

"Wha-ha-gyah—FUCK!" He yelped, spitting out his gum and flailing his arms in a lame attempt at 'defense', hovering back about a foot away from it. It didn't attack, didn't even _move_... it just stared up at him with those blank black eyes. Above those eyes, written in marker, was the word 'stupid' in all capital letters.

He frowned and lamely shooed it. It still didn't move. "Go away. Shoo. Go eat someone else's brains. I'm busy celebrating."

"Food." It replied, voice as dead as its eyes, although its face made an attempt at the 'sad' emotion.

"Um, no, I'm not."

It raised its arms up to about his waist-height, palms up. "Food." It repeated.

He stared at it for a minute or two, confused. "I'm not going to plop my brains into your grubby little zombie hands, if that's what you're thinking. I still need those."

"_Food._"

"I already said no, stupid zombie-thing," He told it firmly, almost like one might a dense child. "Now go away or else you'll feel some serious hurt."

The zombie put its arms down slowly, then just as slowly shook its head. It seemed to be struggling. Too much autonomous thought? "S... snacks..." Arms up again. "Snacks. Snacks. Snacks."

Purple blinked. "Sooo... you don't want my brains?"

"Snacks."

He stared at it again, trying to get a more sinister message out of its one-word chant. Then he sighed, reaching into his PAK again. "If it'll get you to leave me alone, fine. But if this is a trap, I swear. You'll be in so much pain _Black_ will feel it."

The zombie just continued to stare blankly at him, arms going back down. A certain light seen in small children and puppies appeared in its dead eyes. The eyes widened slightly as he pulled out a bag of chips, and somehow this caused it to conveniently forget to catch its prize when he tossed it at it, just letting the bag smack into its face. He snorted, watching it slooowly lean down to pick it up and pop it open with its rather pointy-looking teeth.

"...yeah. Have fun with that. I'll be going now." He said, turning to do just that.

And then something rammed into his skull with enough force as to slam him against the wall, and the last thing he felt before he fainted was the feeling of many, many little pointy things driving mercilessly into the back of his head.

* * *

Hide yer kiddies - the F-word's back thanks to unsupervised Pur. Yay!

You have to wait until NEXT chapter for the fate of Dibbers. Mwahaha.

And look! Argo got some screen time besides being scared of Black!

People from DevART who actually click on the link in my journal will be pleased. People who just like my OC's will be pleased. People who like watching Zim be stupid will not be pleased. People who like watching toads rolling in jam and singing Yank-e-Doodle ... really need to lay off the pot.

This chapter is violent _and_ educational! But mostly violent! Yay violence!


	19. Dead Weight

Chapter 19: Dead Weight

* * *

Contrary to Purple's belief, Red was not out killing zombies and blowing shit up and trying to destroy Black all by his onesies.

In fact, the only "manly macho" thing he'd done in the past ten minutes was punt Lard Nar down the hall like a living football. He couldn't remember the reason why, only that he'd "deserved" it, and that it would be really fucking funny. Obviously the Vortian thought otherwise, but who cares what he thinks?

That was probably why the little bastard had decided to take the easy way out: perching on Red's shoulders, freakish legs coiled around the Tallest's neck to keep him from, say, grabbing him by a horn and chunking him down the hall so that the wall got a nice, new, somewhat gooey decoration. Black had probably done worse to the rest of the place, so it wouldn't make that much of a difference, and the Resisty would have to find a different captain.

He would have tolerated this much better if the Vortian wasn't intent on using his antennae as reins. He would tug on one or the other when a turn came up, as if Red wasn't smart enough to turn on his own.

And of course, they hadn't found a zombie-maker. They hadn't even found any zombies.

"Well, this is extremely exciting," Lard Nar snorted, shifting a bit on his 'seat'. "Just add a dictionary and a nap and you're all set for a rip-snorting good time."

"You coulda stalked somebody else, you know." Red grunted.

He couldn't see it, but he had a feeling the little bastard was grinning. "I knowwww," He drawled, twirling an antenna around one finger. "But since you're my _favorite_ Irken dictator, number one scum of the universe, I figure I should come with you."

Red just growled.

"Besides, you're just too fun to annoy. You jump to the bait way too easy." Tugging lightly on the antenna in his grip, eliciting another, more dangerous growl. "Like smacking a retarded mutt with a stick." A pause. "Only... if you were an _actual_ mutt, you might smell better. Maybe. If you're lucky."

"Shut up." Hissed through gritted teeth. It shouldn't affect him; it had been going on the entire time they'd traveled together. But it did. "If I were you – which it's damn lucky I'm not, since then all I'd get is a pack of dumb aliens and a crap ship instead of an entire _empire _– I wouldn't mock my ride. That leg hold's not gonna last."

"Says you." Tightening his grip a little. "I'm completely secure. _And _I don't have to walk." As Red flinched a bit, signaling a certain nerve being struck... "It must suck to have to actually WALK everywhere again, like normal people, instead of hovering, what, two inches off the ground?"

"Six inches."

"Ooh, half a foot, you're so privileged. I could get the same effect on a hoverboard – _and_ I wouldn't have to wear a dress."

"They're robes, and in case you were too stupid to notice – highly likely – I'm not wearing any since Black fucking stole them off me while I was dead."

"Phew, good – I was _hoping_ that woman had good enough taste to kill you first, since I can't imagine why she'd want you alive."

It took a moment to realize what the hell he was babbling about. It hit him, and had Lard not been perching on his PAK, he would have punted him again. This time with enough force to snap his spine. As it was, he just growled.

"I didn't _fuck _her, if that's what you're implying."

"Irkens can do that? News to me. I thought they just spat babies out of tubes and called it done. Oh, wait, they _do _do that. So what's that for if you don't need 'em for babies? I bet it doesn't even work."

"That's it. Off the ride."

"D'aww, is somebody cwanky?"

"OFF." Without waiting for whatever comeback that little goaty brain could come up with, Red grunted and basically tore him off his shoulders, chunking him toward the wall as he had thought about doing for the past thirty minutes. It actually got him to scream, which instantly cheered the Tallest up.

Wait a minute, that wasn't the Vortian screaming...

Seconds after he made this realization, the real culprit of the screaming ran out in the path of Lard Nar's flailing flight to death, and was then rammed into the wall by the impact of the little bastard to his head, and both fell down dead. Well, not dead, but it took a while for Purple to start back screaming and flailing like he was a second ago.

Red ran over to them as fast as he could, pushing Lard Nar away as he could really care less if that one had brain damage. "Pur! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The other kept flailing and screaming. He noticed then that he was bleeding, but not from where the Vortian had hit him. Looked like bite wounds. "Calm down! Just calm down, dammit! Snap out of it!" Then he slapped him. Probably not the best course of action, but it got him to shut up.

"Oh, hi Red." A stupid little grin. "Didn't see you there."

"Don't mind me, I'm just chopped liver... chopped liver minus a frontal lobe..." Lard Nar mumbled.

Red easily obeyed the statement. "Pur, what happened? Why were you screaming?"

He blinked, then seemed to realize he was supposed to be panicking because he started flailing again. At least he'd dropped the screaming. "Oh Irk, Irk, zombies, zombies swarming and attacking and biting and clawing, zombies fucking _everywhere_—"

"Zombies? Where?"

"They were—they're—HOLY FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK ON A FUCK SANDWICH!" This was accented by a very dramatic point down the hall he'd just come from, and Red really didn't need to ask for any further explanation.

Zombies. Not as many as on Boodie-Nen, but there were still a lot of them.

All coming straight for the Tallests and the Vortian.

Purple screamed, got up (Red noticed then that he was hovering again) and sped away like his ass was on fire. Red followed suit, and felt the familiar sensation of a certain smaller creature clinging tightly to him, thankfully not on his ass, as he ran. He would have chucked him back into the swarm, but that would slow him down, so Lard Nar got another free ride to safety.

The zombies, being that horribly smart, horribly athletic kind, easily caught up, with only one step between himself and the swarm, Purple far ahead. He heard a mixture of a gasp and a squeak, and figured one of the zombies had swiped at his passenger. Too bad they hadn't pulled him off. Then Lard Nar was clinging to his head, and actually shooting at the damn things, as his ride was too busy running to do it himself.

"It's not gonna work, they'll just keep coming," He grunted at him between heavy breaths.

"I know that, but it'll distract 'em at least."

"Fine, but when your gun runs out of whatever the hell you're shooting, I'm feeding you to them."

"Bite me."

"I don't eat garbage."

Shortly after that lovely little exchange, the ship suddenly shuddered, then tipped sideways – probably frontward, but to him as he was running it was the right, the side that was then unceremoniously smashed against the wall of the hallway he was running down. He couldn't see Purple in front of him, and figured that either he'd gotten extremely far ahead, or had experienced the tipping at a conjunction and was currently rolling down that hall.

Then the emergency alarm system started wailing into his antennae, complete with flashing lights; the ship's way of telling them "HOLY FUCK BAD STUFF IS HAPPENING GET OUT BEFORE YOU DIE". He had heard and seen this only once or twice, and knew that just setting the damn thing off took a whole lot of damage.

Antennae flattened to block it out, he chanced a look back and saw that the zombies were all crushed against the wall as well, apparently just as susceptible to the shift as any normal being. It was practically a pile, and if they hadn't started to crawl out of their pile to continue the attack he would have laughed at them. As it was, he scaled along the wall until his claws found only air, just as the ship shuddered and tipped even further forward.

He tried to stop it. He really did. But apparently even his elongated Tallest-issue PAK legs were no match for the awesome force of inertia, as they just uselessly scraped and scrabbled as he rolled around, and eventually they just made rolling on the floor that much less fun, causing him to draw them back into his PAK before he, you know, bruised or something.

At the very least, he was probably crushing Lard Nar as he rolled, for the little bastard hadn't moved at all from point A to point B.

Then he was rolling in the dark as the power went out (alarm and all, thank Irk). Plenty of cursing, but the foremost was, quite simply:

"DAMMIT, ZIM!"

* * *

Black was tired.

In fact, she had almost nodded off sitting there, the regular beeps and humming of the computers melding into one sleep-inducing drone.

"M'gonna go lay down," She mumbled at the chosen few living bodyguards, her voice slightly slurred. "Make sure nothing happens to this stuff, and if Xix comes in—" A slight tensing in their muscles at the mere mention of her 'son'. "—send him out. Or play with him. Just keep him away from the equipment."

They hesitantly saluted, and the clearest thought she could get from them was 'Oh, Irk, NO', causing her to smile a bit to herself as she hovered out of the room. She hovered like a drunk person staggers around, side to side, no control, and as soon as she was out of their sight she ended up slamming face-first into the side of the door to "her" room, formerly the useful one's.

Hopefully no one saw that, but, just in case, she sent out a little amnesia to the closest brains.

This much fatigue... it was perplexing. She had actually slept when she had said she was as Tallest Red, and she had only occupied this form for a few months at the most – not nearly long enough to start draining her. And yet here she was, blurred vision, fuzzy brain, and only too eager to flop heavily on the bed, scattering the former owner's scent back into the air. The rest of the room smelled more like death as she'd piled herself a few snacks here and there, but that bed still stank of him. The scent was probably bonded molecularly into the fibers of the sheets.

She groaned, reaching out and tugging one of the corpses to the bed with her, nomming wearily on its head. It was relatively fresh, as the blood was still able to ooze out on its own. "Maybe they're poisoning me," She told it, pondering and half-joking. "Loading me up on sleeping pills and trying to overdose me..."

A snort, pausing to snatch a fly midway through its flight to her snack, becoming a snack itself.

"That's impossible, since I don't eat their food... maybe the sodas... what do you think, love?"

The corpse, being a corpse, said nothing.

"Oh, I'm sorry – I ate your vocal cords while you were still alive. Silly me." Patting its head, then rolling over with it, half-laying on it with her head on its shoulder like a lover. "Maybe I'm just not eating enough." She frowned. "It's _never_ enough, though. Hmm... let's think quietly together, love..." Said with a yawn, eyelids drooping. They fell completely closed within seconds.

She tuned the conglomerate of Irken thoughts down to a pleasant buzz, her olfactory sense filled with the smell of death and the red one's musk... it wasn't that bad of a smell, actually...

Starting to doze...

_Don't move... don't __**breathe**__..._

Hm?

_Is she asleep? She could be faking it._

What was that?

_Alright... she hasn't moved, so... quietly... avoid that bone there, it looks pointy... don't wake her up... if she wakes up, you're dead..._

She almost dismissed this stream as a wayward Irken thought she forgot to quell. But then she caught a scent she'd never smelled before. A young, male, alien scent.

An intruder.

And it was right underneath her.

Something brushed the tip of her left antenna, which had flopped forward with her earlier and had never flopped back. Her eyes snapped open, antennae snapping back.

The intruder let out a loud, Argo-esque squeak and scrambled backward, still on all fours from crawling underneath her bed. He stared at her with those big ol' brown-gold eyes through those weird lenses over his face, then gave a weak, fear-laden grin.

"Umm, hi." He said, as casually as he could. "If you'd excuse me, I was just leaving..."

She growled and tensed, preparing to spring. "No need to rush, dear," Hissed through clenched, bared fangs, voice dripping in acidic sweetness. "I'm going to kill you either way."

The boy seemed to consider a good response to this, and apparently found none as he promptly screamed loudly in her face and bolted out the door, just as the ship shuddered and bucked forward, toppling several of the corpses to the floor with a wet thud. She growled again and got up, and was nearly toppled herself as the ship repeated the motion. An extremely loud, obnoxious alarm struck up, alongside bright, flashing red lights. She hissed and flattened her antennae to her head, hovering out the door opposite the way the little alien boy had gone.

She made mental note to hunt him down when this shitstorm cleared up.

"What the hell is going on?" She roared seconds later on the bridge, causing pretty much everyone to jump. The alarm was still blaring, causing everyone else to have to yell, if a bit less violently than their Tallest.

"Something's happened to the engines!" A technician shouted back. "All systems are down!"

The ship shuddered again, and someone else chimed in. "We're being pulled toward a nearby planet!"

"And the power core—"

The lights – and the alarm – suddenly shut off, blanketing the bridge in darkness and sweet, sweet silence. Except for the odd groan of the hull as it was being pulled.

"—is down too." The tech finished.

"We're basically dead weight, my Tallest." Second guy.

First guy again. "And we're going to crash."

Black just sort of stood there for a moment or two. They couldn't see it, but her left eye was twitching. Then she suddenly let out a loud screech of frustration, causing everyone to jump again. It was some time until someone spoke, and it happened to be that first technician once more.

"Sooo... I'm guessing you want us to find out what's wrong and fix it?"

She flashed him a cold grin, light from outside atmospheric friction reflecting off her fangs.

"Oh, whatever gave you THAT idea?"

* * *

"Left!"

After Skoodge and Zim had left the little meeting, they had not gone to the "hallway of nothing as far as the eye could see" or any sort of proverbial lion's den.

"Left again!"

Unlike most everyone else save the Tallests (though neither of them traveled through the ship much), Zim actually had a guide that knew where the hell to go. So, thanks to Skoodge, they were currently traversing sublevel B, a smaller maze of halls, on their way to the central hub of controls for the Massive. Or something. It was a bit darker and smellier, anyway.

"Straight! No, right! Right!"

Zim had also not left the inside of Skoodge's cart, and was currently standing at the front of it, leaning forward a bit with his hands propped on the side, like either a small green George Washington or an overeager dog, probably the latter. He had taken it upon himself to direct where Skoodge steered his "ship", and Skoodge was humoring him as the halls really all led to the same place.

"Left!"

"Having fun?" Skoodge grumbled, turning the cart in the aforementioned direction.

Zim glared at him. "The only one who should be talking is me!"

"Aye aye, captain." A dumb little mock-salute accompanying the words, and Skoodge wondered if he should just dump the bastard off somewhere to die...

"Right!" Zim barked, then blinked. "Halt! HALT!"

About thirty feet away and to the right, there was a door. Standing on either side of that door were guards, tallish beefy Irkens armed with shock staffs. They couldn't see Skoodge and Zim from this angle, and if they could, they weren't showing it.

Zim squinted at them, antennae flattening a bit. "This must be it." He whispered.

"That's it, alright," Skoodge whispered back. "Get down."

"Eh?"

"Down. Into the cart. I'll push right past 'em."

"But..." He glanced down, into the slopping muck. There was old mop water and pieces of the dead technician's neck in there. "It's wet in there... can't we just kill them?"

Skoodge deadpanned. "A janitor and an idiot does not an efficient assassin team make."

"I am not—" Antennae flattening further, considering his options. "... fine. But if this doesn't work, I blame you."

The other shrugged, and watched him take a deep breath before squinching his eyes shut and submerging himself in cleaning equipment and muck. You couldn't see him at all in there, and the bubbles disappeared after he apparently remembered his PAK had a breathing apparatus.

After Zim was settled, Skoodge wheeled the cart straight toward the door, trying to look casual.

"Oi," One guard said. "What're you doing down here?"

"Just comin' to clean the controls and stuff. Built up dirt and grime slows down equipment, you know." He flashed the dumbest grin he could manage.

The two frowned a bit, glancing at each other then back at him.

"He has a point, you know." The second guard remarked.

The first one stared at the cart, then Skoodge. "I don't know... Black said to keep a look out for anything suspicious, and you comin' down here at a time like this is DEFINITELY suspicious. Weren't you scheduled to clean the kitchens today?"

"Um... no?"

The second guard smiled. "Can't argue with that logic."

"... I guess not. Fine. You can go clean stuff." He sighed and pressed a button to open the door, looking a bit disappointed. "And here I was hoping you were dragging in some kinda rebel force to blow shit up in there. Isn't that stupid?"

Skoodge nervously laughed. "Yeah, that's pretty stupid. Well, see ya in a bit, fellas."

They just waved as he wheeled past, and soon after the door slid shut with a soft 'woosh'.

He let out a relieved sigh and tapped the side of the cart. "You can come out now, it worked."

The cleaning equipment shifted around a bit, and then Zim's head popped up from the muck, followed by the rest of him. He glanced down at himself and groaned, then shot a dark glare at Skoodge.

"Don't EVER make me do that again." He grunted, and then shook himself like a dog in a pitiful attempt at getting rid of the small, unknown blobbish type things clinging to his uniform and antennae. "That was almost as disgusting as hiding inside Eric the blob's putrid stomach. Almost."

Skoodge shrugged. "Yeah, but it worked, right?"

"I still say we shoulda killed them."

"Sure, sure, and I'd be in charge of disposing of the bodies." The ex-Invader sighed. "Shouldn't you be blowing up stuff now?"

Zim stuck his tongue out at Skoodge and hauled himself out of the cart with a sick plop, walking over to some of the equipment. Every time he took a step, his boots squished, leaving a little wet trail of footprints. He didn't seem to care, just walked around, examining everything, probably to see just how he could fuck it up.

"There's actually some good stuff in here," He remarked, head tilted to the side.

Skoodge frowned and was about to remind him that he was supposed to be blowing shit up when he heard something rather disturbing from outside the door. It sounded a lot like someone being strangled. And after it stopped, there was a meaty thump, followed by yelling and a sort of gruesome ripping noise. And then another thud.

And then the door wooshed open, blood that had probably been splattered all over it dripping down the edge as it moved.

Standing in front of the door, splattered in blood and grinning like a loon, was the black-eyed Irken that had popped up at the last second in their transmission with Black. Behind his scrawny form, Skoodge could see the bodies of the guards, one with his neck twisted and broken and blood dribbling down his chin, the other looking as if his spine had been ripped out.

No, wait, it _had _been ripped out, as the pale Irken had it gripped in one blood-drenched hand.

"Hello there, boys," He purred, straightening and casually slinging the spine over one shoulder. "I was starting to think this day wasn't going to get any better. Now I've got two more playthings to replace the two I lost..."

Zim glared at him, even though the bastard was freaking him out. "Zim is no one's plaything."

He tipped his head to the side, slowly slinking inside. Skoodge had taken this time to wheel away from the door, so they were both an equal distance away from him. "Is that so?" He smiled, showing off too many sharp, stained teeth. "Then you can be a snack. Mother hasn't been feeding me properly, you see – I'm just skin and bone." Stating the obvious a bit there.

"That's sounds like a personal problem," Skoodge said blankly.

"I suppose," Stopping and crouching a bit. "But I can make it YOUR problem!"

A second after he spoke, he sprang, lashing out with the guard's spine. Zim just barely managed to jump out of the way, landing on top of some sort of control panel and having to jump again seconds later, the bony "weapon" slamming hard into where he had been and causing sparks to fly. The other flung the spine aside and leapt atop the control panels himself, claws buried into the metal, causing Zim to shriek and bolt away, the spine slamming into Skoodge's stomach and toppling him into his own cart.

For now, the ex-Invader figured it would be better just to stay there and watch.

Crazyface cackled and ripped his claws out of the panel, tossing whatever had ended up in their grip aside before taking off after Zim, metal caps tearing the hell out of the fragile equipment. Zim glanced behind him, saw the other wasn't that far behind, and ran faster.

"What's wrong, love?" His pursuer called. "You're not _scared_, are you? Scared of me? Why, little ol' Xix wouldn't hurt a FLY!" With this he crawled up the wall and skittered after him like a four-legged spider, easily catching up.

"Scared, no, terrified, maybe!" Zim yelped back, just as Xix pounced him, toppling him to the floor.

He would have had him pinned, if it weren't for the little Invader kicking him and jabbing a PAK leg into his shoulder. He purred, but let his prey pull out the leg and scramble away before knocking him back into one of the machines, a little Zim-shaped dent incurred from the impact. Then he slammed himself into him before he could recover, claws wrapped around his little throat.

"You make a very lousy plaything, dear," Xix remarked sadly, tightening his grip. "Or maybe this game is too hard for you?"

Zim just wheezed and squirmed, another PAK leg starting to move for the taller Irken's guts...

The other grinned again. "I know!" Then he suddenly chucked him into another metal sheeting, which managed to bounce him away into more fragile equipment, more sparks flying. "Speed! Oh I KNEW I was missing something!"

The little Invader groaned, lying there for a moment or two. He could taste blood, could feel it all over him, his body aching and pulsing with pain. He knew if this kept up, he would probably die, either from just being thrown around or being impaled on something.. or Xix getting tired of the sport and ripping HIS spine out.

The rest of his PAK legs extended, tearing out the wiring in the panel next to him. He barely flinched from the sparks, shaking his head and crawling through the darkness and the wiring, not really sure where the hell he was going or what he was going to do if the freak caught up with him. There had to be something in here to hurt him with. Something—

A rather heavy thud sounded above him, interrupting his train of thought. He stopped, antennae flattening, watching the paneling intently, not even willing himself to breathe...

Something else shifted in front of him, then shoved itself in his face as he happened to glance down. Something pale, with black eyes, and waaaayy too many sharp teeth bared in a wide grin.

"Boo."

Then Zim was sailing into the air again, propelled by the force of Xix's kick or swat or something, he hadn't been able to see what the hell he'd used to hit him. His PAK legs buried themselves in the paneling of something else before his body could hit it, crouching down somewhat like a spider himself. He watched the hole he'd just left, just as intently as the paneling, antennae straining for any sign of movement.

Nothing. He'd lost sight of him again.

"Zim! Look up! _Look up!_"

His head whipped toward Skoodge, then upward as commanded, just as Xix dropped down from the ceiling, surprisingly heavy enough to dislodge his PAK legs from their footing, slamming them both into the floor. He slashed and stabbed at Xix with his claws and PAK legs desperately – he was hitting him, and there was blood, but the other wasn't affected at all, and in fact he looked like he was enjoying it –

"Is that all you've got, love? Is that it?" Xix purred, pinning him down by his stomach. Zim stopped slashing, but didn't withdraw the legs, just glaring up at him. "Or are you just teasing me? Waiting for me to drop my guard so you can shove a bomb down my throat?"

The claws pressed harder, and something else poked against Zim's side. Something small, plastic...

"Well, not necessarily a _bomb_, per se." He said, imitating Xix's grin... before whipping out his spray bottle and mercilessly squirting the taller in the face.

Xix hissed and recoiled, letting go of Zim and covering his face with his hands, body shaking.

"Oh, Mother, save me, save me, the pain! It hurts! I think my skin is melting! Meltiiiiiing! I can feel it burning into my _brain_!"

With laughter.

As Zim just stared at him, Xix kept laughing, lowering his hands and wiping off the water like it was so much harmless liquid, not a single burn or blister anywhere on his pale flesh. He wasn't smoking or screaming at all.

"That's... that's impossible!" Zim gasped. "Y-you should be screaming! Burning! Rolling around on the floor and begging for mercy from Zim! Why aren't you—" Whatever else he was going to said turned into a pathetic little choking sound as Xix's claws wrapped around his throat once again, the water still clinging to the glove burning against his neck.

"Why? Why the hell not? It's just water! H2O!" He snorted and splashed some off the other glove onto Zim's face, which also sizzled, causing him to flinch, a soft wheeze in the place of a proper scream. "You'd think this shit was acid the way you sit there and whimper!"

Then he cackled and tossed his prey up into the air, turning around and popping him back up into the air with the sole of his boot before kicking him into something else, which clattered and clanged loudly and showered sparks all over the little Invader.

"Come on, come on!" He chirped cheerfully. "The game's not done yet!"

"Fuck your game." Zim grunted, coughing up some blood.

Xix tilted his head, pretending to consider this. Then he was right next to him, tugging him up to eye-level by an antenna. "You're so _rude._" He scolded, although he was still grinning. "I suppose I'll just have to teach you some manners, then, won't I?"

Pain was soaring through his head, making him squint his eyes shut, biting back a very unZim-like whimper. It felt as if his antenna was going to pop out of its socket at any moment. Instinctively he lashed out, claws scraping into something squishy. He growled softly and sunk them into it, yanking back as hard as he could possibly yank.

Rrrriiiip.

Then he found himself on the floor, the pain in his antenna and head gone. He opened his eyes to see what he'd pulled out, and even though he'd had a good idea of what it was, he still would have rather not seen it.

A black eye was lying there in the palm of his hand, complete with grayish-black muscles dangling down from it and black blood dripping down his arm. He glanced up, and Xix was actually still grinning at him, more black blood flowing freely from the now empty left eye socket. He hadn't done anything to stop him, and he hadn't made but maybe a soft growl purr while Zim had yanked.

"So very, very rude." He growled, and promptly kicked Zim with enough force as to send him into yet another panel, next to some turbines. That grin was still there, but it looked... wider. Angrier. He slowly walked up, and once settled, kicked and clawed and slashed at him like some kind of frenzied bear, aiming to break, render, kill—

Something crackled, then snapped, then all of a sudden the place was roaring with explosions and riddled with shrapnel. Xix hissed and hit the deck, and Skoodge hid deeper into his cart, Zim not really moving as the panel he was embedded in had gotten all of its explosions out of its system earlier. An alarm, loud and shrill, started wailing, lights flashing amidst the explosion.

Just barely over the sirens, Zim could hear some kind of howling, and it took him a while to realize it was coming from the one-eyed Irken on the floor, face contorted in pain, claws clapped tightly over his antennae, good eye squinched shut.

The entire ship shuddered and bucked forward, slamming Zim against the side of the panel. As Xix was too busy howling, he forgot to anchor himself down, and Zim could hear him sliding away as the ship repeated the motion. Something clattered to the floor, and the howling stopped. Hopefully whatever that was just squished the bastard.

Then suddenly it went dark and silent. What was left of the explosions came out as a few showers of sparks.

Just as suddenly, Zim found himself in somewhere wet and smelly, and he could hear the sounds of wheels squeaking along tile. Then came a familiar 'woosh', the squeaking continuing.

"We're getting out of here," Skoodge's voice grunted, just as Zim's Invader-issued implants kicked on night vision. Not much to see in a janitor's cart, though.

"What about—" A small coughing fit as his insides reminded him they hurt, and probably had something ruptured in there from all the throwing and the kicking. "—that guy? Shouldn't we finish him off? He's gonna follow us."

"Um, if you want to go back in complete darkness with that freak, be my guest. I'll make sure the Tallest get your dismembered corpse as a souvenir."

"...never mind." He sighed, and almost started coughing again. "Mission accomplished, though."

"Barely."

Zim frowned. "If I die and Black is still around, feel free to kill me."

"Righty-o."

* * *

Lawl. Xix needs an eye patch now. And he got his cool points back, yay!

No, Zim's not gonna die. It's not THAT kind of fic.

Aaand Pur's pushing the T rating again, yay!

Yes, I know I took forever and it sucks. Hopefully the next one will be better and quicker? Maybe? Probably not?

... Black's part was written at school. Can you tell?

IT'S GETTING CLOSER TO THE END, YAY.


	20. Trickery

Chapter 20: Trickery

* * *

It was dark.

But he could handle the dark.

They couldn't see him in the dark, could they?

They could probably smell him, though. And hear him.

He had gotten into the habit of dragging himself down the hallway as opposed to walking, causing a sick, wet, scratchy sort of noise as blood-soaked cloth scraped against tile, and his breath came out in soft, pained wheezes.

He was a sitting duck, a crawling snack.

But he wasn't going to let them get him that easily.

Pain soared through his broken body as he settled down near what felt like a wall to rest, considering his options carefully despite the immense pain and throbbing in his head. It was almost like there was a hole in there, which raised so many questions as to why he was still alive.

He had already attempted to fix himself up earlier, but it was hard to do in the lack of light, and it hadn't helped him at all.

"The bridge." He murmured. His voice was hoarse and choked with blood. "Have to.."

What? Why would he want to go there?

Perhaps there WAS a hole in his head, then. But he was confused. She was there, wasn't she? Why would he want to go there, in this state, if she was there? Wouldn't she just finish the job..?

He groaned and shifted to resume dragging himself along, feeling faint and sick. No, he wasn't going to collapse. He was only alive through sheer force of will – if he allowed himself to collapse, then he would allow himself to die..

Something rustled in the darkness, to his left. He instinctively growled, and the thing stopped, shifting a little away from him. It sounded far too big to be a zombie.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed again – he wasn't going to give away his identity like that, no sir, considering that creature could be any number of enemies aboard the ship. Instead, he hunkered down a bit, and catapulted his wounded form onto what he hoped was the enemy.

He didn't land exactly on it as he'd hoped, but on part of it, and it seemed to be enough as it flailed and screamed in a peculiarly familiar voice.

"GET OFF ME FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU CAN'T HAVE MY BRAINS-"

"My Tallest?" The wounded Irken asked, perplexed. Apparently he wasn't the only one that was alive despite impossibility.

The other stopped thrashing once he heard the other's voice, and he could almost see the look on his face – it had to be the same as his own: confused and somewhat relieved it wasn't the enemy.

He eased himself off his Tallest with another groan, and heard the other sit up and softly swear as he discovered all of his so-called attacker's blood that had drenched him in the few moments of contact.

"You're hurt." Both Irkens said in unison.

The wounded Irken shook his head, his throbbing, bleeding head. "My wounds are of no importance, my Tallest." A hand reached out, touching what felt like the other's stomach, causing him to flinch. "Yours may become infected."

Bite mark. Zombies.

Purple started to speak again, then hissed as he felt something moving against his wounds. It stung, but after a moment his wounds were pleasantly numbed, and so he lie still for it. He heard the ripping of cloth, then the other started bandaging him up.

"You have to stop her." The wounded Irken murmured once he was done. "You have to get to the bridge and end this."

"But.. I.. we're outnumbered.. and her zombies.."

"Don't worry about them. Just get to the bridge."

He started to drag himself away, but was stopped by two long, trembling fingers hooking around his arm, trying to keep him there.

"What about you..?" Purple asked.

He gently pried the fingers away, managing a dark smirk despite the pain, something the Tallest wouldn't be able to see and he was glad he couldn't, else he'd think he'd gone insane. "They'll have to work pretty damn hard for THIS snack."

The emergency lights snapped on, bathing the hallway in dim red light.

Purple moved to grab for his invisible savior again, and realized he was the only one sitting in that melancholy glow..

* * *

_Ugh.. my head.. wait.. where am I? Oh shit, I'm not still in her room, am I?_

Wherever it was, it was dark and cold. He tried to move, and found he couldn't, bound to something by his wrists and ankles. Panic flooded his mind and he went to scream - to call for Zim, the others, _anyone_ - but something was in his mouth, fastened around his ears and keeping his mouth partly open. He was bound and gagged, and had no idea where the hell he was.

This.. wasn't good.

He heard footsteps approaching him in the darkness, calm, casual, but too heavy to be anyone he trusted. Perhaps Tallest Red, but he didn't really trust him, and if it WAS him, he would have smacked him in the head and told him to wake up before dragging his ass away, if he didn't decide to kill him first. Alongside the footsteps he could hear a voice humming an eerie little tune, something that was almost familiar.. but creepy all the same..

"_Goooooood morning, starshine!_" The voice crowed, and a bright light snapped on overhead, making him flinch and close his eyes, turning his head away from it.

He felt his glasses being moved away and his eyes shot open despite the light, thrashing almost in a frenzy against his bonds to try and get them back. He didn't want to be blind, goddamnit, especially not for this. The voice just laughed, and then he realized he probably was better off blind considering a certain pale, black-eyed creature suddenly shoved his face into his own - he was ugly enough WITHOUT glasses.

And was he missing an eye?

"Sneaky little alien thing, popping up in Mother's room while she was napping," He purred, almost approvingly, a bony hand sliding down Dib's head, making him shiver. "Naughty naughty. Good thing I caught you, hmm? Mother doesn't like naughty boys."

Actually, that had been an accident, but it wasn't as if he could tell him that even if he wanted to.

"She probably would have eaten you.. she never leaves any for me.."

The boy squirmed against his bonds, trying again to push the gag out, but Xix just laughed at his efforts, reaching beside him where it was still dark.. and when the hand came back, it was gripping what appeared to be a scalpel. Dib stared at it, eyes widening. There was only one thing one could do with that, and he wasn't going to like it.

Perhaps now he wouldn't be so quick to threaten Zim with it..

The hybrid pressed the point lightly against the side of his face, causing him to fall dead still, and he trailed it down to his neck, tracing the artery there, still strangely gentle, and all the more terrifying for it. Then he reached over above the boy's head, and the chair - was it a chair? - fell back so that he was lying down rather than sitting up, still strapped down to it, and a soft squeak pushed its way out around the gag from the sudden change in altitude.

Even without his glasses, he could see the other's face splitting into a wide, predatory grin, showing off too many pointed teeth, and his eyes looked like black holes..

"I didn't get to play too much with the other alien.. so let's see what's going on in _this_ one.."

* * *

"Ummm... miss Gaz-lady, ma'am..."

"What?"

"I think we lost him, but... the door's locked... and it's really dark now... I think the power's dead..."

After running for their lives, Argo and Gaz had found the weapons vault. Argo had used his advisor's access code to get her in there, and since Xix was drawing closer, he had gotten in there too. He'd heard their pursuer pass the vault by... and then the ship had shuddered and bucked forward (it had slammed them both up against the door, slamming the door closed first; they had eventually gotten used to it and were sort of upright on the floor again), the warning alarm blaring—and then it had gotten dark. Very dark. And they couldn't get out since the door was power-operated. No power, no door movement.

"What d'you mean the door's locked? Just use your code thing again!" Gaz snapped, apparently too busy picking up as many alien weapons as she could find to really realize their situation.

Argo mewed and squirmed nervously. "I, um.. I would, but, I...kinda can't... the door's power-operated... the keypad is offline... w-we're stuck..." A soft whimper. "And it's all my fault! Oh, I _knew_ I shoulda just kept runnin'.."

"Shut up, there's plenty of time for the blame game once we get out of here."

"But I just said there's no way out."

"That's just _one_ way. Everywhere's got more than one way out, even if you have to make it yourself." Something shifted in the darkness. Sounded like metal. "If I were you, I'd duck."

"You're not gonna—" He whimpered again. "That stuff's dangerous!"

"Whatever. If you don't get down in the next three seconds, I'm gonna blow your head off with the door."

He squeaked and hit the deck before she could even begin to count, trying to make himself as flat as possible with a PAK in the way, instinctively clapping his hands over his antennae in hopes of blocking out the coming noise. It didn't do much good as he heard the roar of gunfire anyway, and he could feel the heat from whichever kind of gun she was using across his back. He knew if he tried to look up or even shift around a bit, she'd probably kill him, unintentionally or otherwise.

She tried five different guns before the door finally gave way. Five different kinds of ammo: lasers, normal bullets, fire, and two unidentifiable things that worked the best out of all of them. The darkness opened up into more darkness, lit for a few seconds at a time by the glowing embers in the sides of the hole in the door, and the entire area stank of gunfire. His back slightly singed (or so he thought), Argo remained on the floor, trembling a bit as if expecting her to shoot him next.

"Oi. You can get up now. We're free." She grunted, and when he didn't move, she kicked him, eliciting a dog-like yelp and the wanted behavior.

"Din't have to _hurt _me..." He sniffled, and then flinched away when she glared at him.

Gaz rolled her eyes and climbed out through the hole she'd made in the door, toting as many weapons as she could. It was still dark, meaning that whatever was wrong with the power for the vault was also wrong with the whole ship. Good thing she'd gotten good at navigating in the dark after the second of her brother's worldwide power surges.. though, considering the angle, the ship was most likely hurtling toward its doom, if slowly, which meant she wasn't going to get much time to navigate. Ah, well.

Besides the odd groan from the ship itself, she heard something that sounded like talking back in the vault. She waited a few minutes for it to stop, and she still didn't hear Argo following her. She figured she still needed a taller meat shield so... "Hey. Wimp. Grab as many weapons as you can and get your ass out here."

"B-But weapons're _bad_..."

"I'm leaving you, then. Have fun with Crazyface when he comes back."

A soft squeak, followed by the sound of his robes scraping against the side of the hole and the clattering of his feet scrambling to catch up with her. And then the sound of his body thudding against the floor and weapons clanging to the floor as he apparently tripped over his own two feet.

She smirked, wishing she could have seen it. "Good boy."

"I feel so dirty... can't _you _carry these...?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No, dammit."

"Pretty please?"

"_No._"

"..pretty please with whatever aliens like on top?"

She just growled.

"O-okay then. Sorry."

Then it was mostly silent, except for the sounds of their feet, the weapons clanging against each other and rattling in the frightened Irken's grip, and Argo's robe dragging along the floor. And of course, the occasional squeak and whimper as the Irken realized he was also terrified of the dark every few steps and felt the need to vocalize it.

Gaz had shifted the responsibility of dragging and carrying most of the weaponry to one arm to feel along the wall with the other hand, noting that no wall meant a turn, and no sound coming from that turn meant there was no reason to go there. She was aiming to kill _something_. Anything. Hopefully the crazed black-eyed Irken that had chased her around like she was a scared little girl. He would pay for that. That and her leg. It didn't hurt as much now as Argo had fixed it up in the vault, but it still burned and ached and forced her to limp.

"Umm..." Argo's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"What now?"

"What's that?"

"..what's what?"

"That... light thingy. Is it a ghost...?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. There, a few yards ahead, was a light. It was heading toward them and she could see how he could mistake it for a ghost, since she couldn't see anything behind it. It looked more like a flashlight, though...

She wasn't about to take any chances, however, so she stopped, dropped all but one massive gun – it was surprisingly light for its size – and aimed it at the light, grunting at Argo to do likewise and hearing him fumble with something smaller, probably a pistol of some kind.

"Whoever or _what_ever the hell you are, stop right there or I'll blow your stinking head off." She growled.

Seemingly ignorant, the light kept coming, and so she cocked the gun, finger starting to press down on the trigger...

"Wait! Wait, Gaz, don't shoot! It's me!"

Dib's voice.

She fired a warning shot by his head anyway. Argo attempted to do likewise, and though he soon dropped his weapon because the hammer had bitten into his hand, his shot got a hell of a lot closer to Dib's head as Gaz heard him squeal like a piggy.

The light and its owner came up, and now both humans and Irken were visible as that was actually a pretty high-powered light. Dib rubbed at his ear and whined.

"I'm gonna assume it's that guy that made the second shot."

"Unfortunately."

"That _hurt._" He glared at the bandaged Irken, who just whimpered and backed away a step, antennae pinned.

Alongside the normal fear of strangers and aliens, a different sense was niggling at the back of Argo's mind. He had never met this creature before, so he didn't know if this was just how said creature usually was, but somehow, in some way, something was.. _wrong _about him.

Very, very wrong.

And oddly familiarly so...

"M-miss Gaz.." He started, hesitantly, but she didn't seem to hear him – too busy conversing with the subject of his paranoia. He gave an insistent whine. Nothing but a growl in return. He had half a mind to tell her 'good luck with that bad scary thing' and run like hell... but she was still injured.. and she'd probably shoot him in the back before he got too far..

Gaz, meanwhile, had no such paranoid delusions.

"If you're not coming with me, go find someone else to pester and stay the hell out of my way. I've got a crazyface to slaughter." She grunted, brushing past Dib. The Irken would have to take ALL the weapons this time.

The boy blinked, then shrugged. "Err, good luck with that."

"Wait a minute."

Argo perked up a bit, hoping she came to her senses.

"Give me your light, bugbrain. You can find another one later."

..nevermind.

Without waiting for a response yay or nay, she plodded back and snatched the light from him. He gave it up without a fight, and she grunted in approval before walking off again, pausing to whistle sharply at Argo like calling a dog. The advisor jumped, hurriedly gathered as many weapons as he possibly could, and started off after her.

The emergency lights snapped on, making the flashlight useless, but Gaz kept it regardless, figuring she'll need something better than the dim red overhead.

As the timid Irken passed Dib, the boy glanced up, and... it may have been just the lack of good light, but his eyes.. they appeared to be solid shark-eye black, not unlike a certain psychopath's.. Argo's own eyes widened, and he moved to tell Gaz, but a soft sound caught his attention. His head snapped back where the freakish little human had been.

Nothing.

"Miss Gaaaaz..."

* * *

DUN DUN DUN.


	21. Pain

Chapter 21: Pain

* * *

After being crushed by a Tallest and nearly eaten alive by zombies, Lard Nar was running. Running as fast as his little Vortian feet would take him. Where was he running? At first, in a panic of course, he'd aimed to find some way out of this hellhole before the zombies returned to finish the job, watching the walls with wide fearful eyes for any sign of an exit. But as time went on, and he calmed down a bit, he decided he would go find Tallest Black.

He wasn't entirely sure what he should do with her - kill her, take her hostage (except no one would want to pay ransom for a creature bent on wiping out the Universe), or strike up a deal with her about just wiping out the Irkens and leaving the "superior" races to take up their mantle. He knew such a plan would probably bite him as hard in the ass as one of her zombies would, but it was always a possibility. Couldn't count any possibility out. And if push came to shove, he could always double cross her and stab her in the back - metaphorically or literally.

Hell, he could always sell her, her zombies, and the entire Irken race to the Planet Jackers. Zombies would burn good. Irkens would sizzle. The Universe would rejoice. And he would be filthy stinking rich on top of it all. He could buy himself a new ship and hire new crew members and.. well, they wouldn't be the Resisty anymore since the Irkens would be sun-food, but maybe he could go around stealing from the rich to give to the poor, an intergalactic Robin Hood in an ironically fancy spaceship.

Or just buy the freedom of every goddamn Vortian out there, if there were even any left. Maybe he could rebuild Vort while he was at it..

Had he been paying attention to the hallways rather than laughing to himself about his not-so-diabolical schemes, he would have seen a lone zombie plodding along, focused on the bag of chips in its hands. And had the zombie been paying attention to the hallways instead of mindlessly munching on its snack, it could have stepped aside before Lard Nar ended up plowing headlong into it. As it was, both zombie, Vortian, and bag of chips ended up toppling noisily to the floor.

"Why don't you look where you're- oh.." His few seconds of rage were easily quashed by slowly rising panic, and he got up, trying to appear dominant, standing his ground. "Now, see here, you- you- you undead Irken scumbag! I'm on very important Resisty business here, and you happen to be in my way!"

The zombie, whose forehead was marked with what appeared to be the word "STUPID" in black marker, only slowly turned its head toward the fallen bag of chips, dull black eyes blinking once before it slowly looked up at Nar. The look made him feel rather uncomfortable, like a wounded puppy staring helplessly at him.

"Snacks." It said simply.

The Resisty leader huffed and kicked the bag aside - he'd have picked it up to eat it himself, but gods only knew what sort of things were in Irken-made foods. "Fetch, then, if you want that inedible crap so badly." He snorted, crossing his arms and watching the thing expectantly.

The zombie blinked again, then it gave him a more insistent look, accompanied by an insistent tone. "_Snacks._"

"They're right there. Go on, boy, go get them." His own tone was like talking to a very retarded dog, assuming the creature wouldn't be able to pick up on it. It was named Stupid, after all - that doesn't exactly scream of high intelligence.

Slowly it glanced toward the bag again, reaching out for it. Its hand hesitated, and both of them watched a spider crawl over one of the chips that had spilled out from the second assault on the bag. Stupid's antennae lowered pathetically, and it drew its hand back as if the spider had bitten it. Lard Nar had been somewhat expecting it to eat the spider instead, and was a little disappointed at this sudden show of weakness.

When the zombie glanced up at him again, however, he found he missed the hurt puppy look. Its dead black eyes narrowed, and it drew back its lips into a snarl, revealing a few too many pointed teeth. It uttered a deep, animalistic growl, shifting in its spot on the floor so that it was hunkering down, preparing to spring like some predatory beast. Quite the change from the mindless and almost cute appearance of earlier, to be sure.

"Whoa, hey now, no need to get upset.." He was backing away now, slowly, hands up in surrender, trying to appear as non-confrontational as possible to keep from having those zombie fangs in his head. "You can always get more snacks later, it's not like that was the last bag of chips on the whole damn ship, you know..?"

"_Special._" Was the only reply.

Had he been less scared out of his wits, he'd have given a snarky response to that - as it was, he uttered a loud, somewhat girlish scream and ran like hell in the way he'd come from, thinking Stupid was right behind him, snapping at his heels. Ran as fast as his little Vortian feet would take him, ignoring all the earlier plans and just looking for somewhere to hide or escape this hellhole before his brain became zombie chow.

The zombie in question, however, hadn't sprung at all. Once Nar was gone, it promptly stopped snarling and settled back down on the floor, sighing softly as it reached over into the bag, pulling out a handful of chips and the spider.

"Gift.. ruined.." It muttered, stuffing chips and arachnid into its mouth to chew sullenly. "Eat _him_ next."

* * *

He was alone again.

Ordinarily he would go back to rejoicing and whatnot for this fact, as it still meant he had no Zim to deal with.. but he was still wounded. Vulnerable. Easy prey if the zombies found him again. Hardly in any condition to be getting up and dancing, especially now that his hover belts were broken again. One of the zombies must have bitten them during the frenzy..

Which was why he was now dragging himself along the floor like his legs were broken, leaving a lovely little trail of blood along behind him where it had seeped out of the other Irken's attempt at bandages and soaked his robes. It was pathetic, really. He could have gotten up and staggered along easily, as his legs were the least damaged.. but whenever he tried, a surge of dizziness and nausea swept over him, and he was forced to stay down. Even lifting his head up too far would get the same effect.

And the pain.. oh god, the pain. At first his injuries were still numbed, and he was making good time in his crawling - across two halls at least. But then that feeling wore off. Suddenly his body had exploded in immense pain, a hell of a lot worse than when he'd first been attacked, and for the next few minutes after that he was stopped dead in the middle of a hallway, curling up in a fetal position and trying not to cry. It was like he'd eaten one of the zombies and it was still "alive", trying to claw its way out of him.

He felt like he was going to die.

But he had to get to the bridge.. had to stop her.. had to end this, once and for all.. even if it was the last thing he did..

Purple stifled a soft whimper and forced himself onward, antennae pinned tightly against his head. He was somewhat glad he was alone, the more he thought about it - Red wouldn't want to see him like this. Hell, even Zim might be concerned. But then the little bastard might also try to finish him off while he couldn't fight back.. all it would take would be a few strikes with a PAK leg, or a few well-placed shots of water...

Perhaps he HAD been alone too long. He'd started to think of the rest of his "team" as enemies just as much as the zombies were..

.. maybe it was just because he hadn't found them yet...

The ship was barren, at least the part he was crawling helplessly in. The only sounds he could hear were the groans of the hull and his own labored breathing, the damp scratching of his bloody robes being dragged along the floor, the scritching of his claws in the tile, and a soft sound in the ceiling he assumed were the emergency lights. He would have thought he'd have found SOMEONE by now.. but then he wasn't going very fast or far.. perhaps he just hadn't made it to where they were, yeah..

He had no idea how long he'd been crawling along like this. He'd lost all track of time, and the pain was getting worse... burning, aching... he wasn't sure how much more he could stand...

.. maybe he should just give up..

At the same time he thought of that, he realized the material of the floor he was dragging himself across was different. The place was still barren and empty, of course, but after a moment or two, he realized he'd managed to plop himself right in the bridge.

But where was Black? Where were the advisors? Where were the technicians? Something about the whole set up felt very, very wrong..

A long, motionless shape caught his eye, the one thing in this room of emptiness. It looked vaguely Irken..

Without hesitation he hauled himself toward it, at first thinking it was going to be Black or one of her zombies lying in wait, then something more horrible.. once he was close enough, however.. that more horrible thought started to look true.. hesitantly he gripped an icy shoulder and rolled the creature over on its back, unable to stifle a horrified gasp.. lifeless red eyes stared up at him.. the body was riddled with more wounds than himself, blood long since stilled.. there was no chance in hell he could have survived all that damage..

Red was dead.

Again.

"Why did you have to go off and try to kill her yourself, you stupid bastard..?" Tears welled up in his eyes, and he moved to smack the corpse, but his hand faltered, and he ended up collapsing on top of its bloody chest instead. "Why did you leave me like this..?" His voice was muffled and choked with tears, tears that had already started to pour out of his eyes, soaking the thing where blood hadn't already soaked.

His heart was breaking, and once again he felt like he was going to die..

A voice cut through the sound of his sobs like a poisonous lance, and he froze against the corpse, a chill running up his spine.

"Aww, how touching."

He heard the vague whirr of hover belts approaching him and his fallen co-leader, and immediately he snapped up on all fours, head whipping toward her, nevermind the surge of dizziness that came with the motion. His lips were pulled back in an attempt at a snarl, though there was still more sorrow than rage in his eyes, trying helplessly to stop crying in the face of danger. "You.. you _killed_ him.."

Black blinked, then laughed, hovering up until there was a foot between them, grinning her son's grin. "Why yes, yes I did. And you know what?" She leaned in close, as though to kiss him or bite his face off, whichever came first. "It was _easy_."

Without a second thought Purple suddenly snarled and launched his wounded body at her, only to end up slamming face-first into the floor. He heard her laughing at him as he struggled to push himself up on all fours again, coughing up more blood. Before he could attempt another pitiful attack, her boot slammed into his side hard enough to send him sailing across the dais, where he struck the railing full-force and slumped to the floor. Seconds later her claws were around his throat, and she was grinning down at him again.

"You didn't think it would be that simple, did you? Just waltz in here, take me out, have your happy little Empire back? I'm not going _anywhere_, you hear me?" Her grip tightened, and he found it hard to breathe, blood dribbling down his chin. The tears had stopped, but she could still see them in his eyes, and for some reason they infuriated her, as she snarled and slammed him up against the railing again, hard, a soft wheeze replacing any sound of pain. "Pathetic! You, your mate, your entire race, absolutely PATHETIC!"

Purple just wheezed again, Tallest-issue PAK legs slowly easing out of his PAK as his claws hooked onto her arm. He remembered the beginning of this whole situation, her and her strange mind powers.. so he tried to talk to her with his mind rather than his mouth, as he couldn't breathe with the latter. _If you get rid of me.. someone else will stop you.._

She snorted, her other arm catching the PAK leg aimed for her head before it could hit its mark, and easily tore it in half. "Who? There's no one in the Universe who would DARE challenge me."

_The Irkens you haven't wiped out.. the Resistance.. fuck, maybe even something just like you, a slimy monstrosity out to feed on an Empire.. you know what, I like that option best - get your own medicine shoved down your throat, see how YOU like being dismembered and eaten.._

Rather that dignify this with a response, she promptly chucked him across the dais again, and this time he ended up colliding with the panels on top of a technician's station, and slid down into another station beneath it to provide himself with some kind of shelter against her, withdrawing the broken PAK leg and folding the rest beneath him. His body burned and ached and throbbed its hardest yet, and he could have sworn something had ruptured in him. All in all it wasn't fair - a half-dead Irken versus whatever the hell she was at full strength.

There had be some way to weaken her..

"My Tallest..?" A voice wondered, and he realized he wasn't alone back here - the technician who was stationed here was still here, and was staring at him oddly. His eyes were strange, half-misted over, as though he was under some kind of spell, but the sight of the wounded Tallest seemed to be breaking it...

Purple immediately snapped a hand over the smaller's mouth, though he was damn sure she already knew where he was anyhow, and pressed a shaking finger to his own lips in the time-honored 'shh' motion. The other nodded obediently, and he let go of him, watching warily for Black. Maybe he could confuse her, buy himself some time.. time to do what, he had no idea.. an idea hit him, and it was bound to fail, but he grabbed the technician and whispered it in his antennae anyway, almost too softly for the poor bastard to hear it.

The technician blinked, and stared at him oddly again. The wounded Tallest just grinned back at him and nodded.

Meanwhile Black was biding her time, waiting for him to try something stupid. She could have easily gone over there and yanked him out, but she wanted to give him a sporting chance. Highly unlikely he'd be able to do anything as he was.. and his scent was delicious. Pain, fear, blood.. an intoxicating aroma.. it made her drool a little.

"Come on, dear.." She purred. "You can't hide from me forever, you know.."

Nothing, then..

"Then come and get me, bitch!" Purple crowed and leapt up onto his feet as well as he could (propping his arms up on the panel before him to keep from toppling over from the resulting dizziness), quite the change from the weak broken thing of earlier. Then he made rude gestures at her with his hands, and pelvic thrusted in her direction. The technician behind him had to stifle the resulting giggle from the last motion.

That.. wasn't entirely what she was expecting. She swept through his mind to find out what the hell he was up to.. and for some reason, couldn't find anything. So instead of calmly moving over to pull him out, she decided to give in to her predatory urges and pounced, aiming to land on top of him. He propelled himself out of range with his PAK legs, and she ended up crashing to the floor - before she had time to react, a slab of something solid slammed upside her head, knocking her back to the floor, presumably unconscious.

The technician put his keyboard back and sighed. "I really hope you're the real Tallest Purple, 'cause if you're not, you just got me a one-way ticket to Deactivationland for assaulting a Tallest."

"It's me, trust me," He said simply, coughing up a bit more blood. Well, now that she was out, perhaps he could drag her down to the crematorium and-

He never got to finish that thought, because something had grabbed the nearest PAK leg, and then he found himself sailing through the air. His body and the railing got reacquainted once he stopped soaring, and a sharp addition to the pain family told him his arm was broken once again by the impact. That was obviously the least of his worries, as he heard hover belts quickly approaching. Claws hooked around his neck again and hoisted him up off the floor, and the change in altitude made him feel faint and the ship around him to blur for a moment. Once his world came back into focus, he found he rather missed only seeing blobs of color - she was absolutely furious.

And her eyes..

He found he couldn't look away from them.. even though it seemed to make the pain inside him worse..

She wasn't saying anything now, though her mouth was moving.. no, wait.. maybe he just couldn't hear anything.. it was all one tone, growing louder the longer he stared into those black eyes.. the pain was growing even worse now, and he started to think that he was going to implode.. yet he just couldn't look away... over her head he noticed the technician was screaming at him, then suddenly blood spurted from his no-longer misted eyes and he fell to the floor..

.. was she trying to do that to him...?

Then the ship finally slammed into the planet's surface, and shuddered and rattled hard as it scooted along the ground.. there had to be some kind of din going on, but all Purple could hear was that one tone.. apparently even the damn thing crash landing hadn't broken her concentration.. finally the ship stopped, and behind her he only vaguely noticed something moving up as sneakily as it could.. things were going blurry again, it was hard to tell..

Something flat and metal struck her in the back of the head, and out of surprise she dropped him, freeing him from that trance just in time for him to hear Zim's voice: "You leave him alone!"

Huh.. apparently the little bastard WOULD care. Neat.

Black laughed her trademark laugh, and then Purple found himself sailing through the air once more - this time he didn't just hit a wall or something, no, this time his body impacted with the reinforced glass panes hard enough to smash a hole through one and hurtle out and down into what appeared to be a desert.. he hadn't enough time to really look at the scenery, as he slammed into the ground, face-first, exactly where some of the shards had fallen, and something fell on top of him, stabbing those shards deeper into his gut. The something, presumably Black, hissed, then he was being dragged away as he heard other, smaller things thudding onto the ground.. and one bigger one..

"Let him go."

Red..?

* * *

I still intend to finish this. 8D

This chapter is brought to you by FAIL.

F-A-I-L. It's what's for dinner.


	22. Showdown

Chapter 22: Showdown

* * *

"Let him go."

Black stopped hovering away with the now-unconscious Tallest, slowly turning to face the speaker. For the longest time, Red, the two drones/Invaders, Vortian, and humans with him, and herself just stood there, staring each other down as the desert wind howled in the background. The tension was almost tangible; no one wanted to make the first move.

She grinned, eyes casually gazing over each one. Hardly a threat, she surmised - especially when most if not all of them were wounded in one way or another, not unlike her captive snack.

"You know, dumplings," She purred, tightening her grip on her prey. "The only reason any of you are still alive right now, is because just the _idea _of you defeating me as you are is amusing. Come on, just _try _to take this snack from me. I'll even be generous enough to let you have the first shot."

Red moved to do just that, when a noise from the ship behind them stopped him. It sounded like voices, and attracted all present's attention besides poor unconscious Purple.

"Um, I'm pretty sure that's an out hole, not an in hole.."

"Does it matter? At least we're not stuck anymore. Now everyone, PUSH!"

Something thudded against the side of the ship, then again, then one of the chutes were forced open and the entire Resisty crew tumbled out onto the desert hardpan, for the moment dazed. A small metallic shape bounded out and slid down the backs of the various species until it landed on its feet a foot and a half from the bottom-most creature's face, striking a somewhat heroic pose despite the stupid grin on its face.

"Honey, I'm home!" GIR exclaimed, and promptly attached to Zim. Never had he been so glad to see the little weirdo. And he even went into duty mode once he caught sight of Black, aiming his weaponry at her. Perhaps they weren't so doomed after all.

Red smirked. "Looks like you're heavily outnumbered, babe."

"Oh, am I?" Black just continued to grin, completely unphased.

Another, more ominous sound attracted our heroes' attention, and they glanced over in time to see one of the side pods slowly open up, and several hundred zombies poured out to join their master, from both sides of the ship. After them, however, a rather unzombified Irken bounded out of the pod, tripping over his own two feet and landing flat on his face next to Tallest Red. Gaz blinked, and wasn't sure if she was glad to see him or not - the last she'd seen of the poor bastard, he was running like hell from the swarm he just followed out.

"A-ah.. um.. my Tallest.. Miss Gaz.. other people.." Argo began. "S'not as bad as it looks."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gaz and Red chorused, both squinting at him.

"You're not THAT outnumbered, see? I told the nice people in the Armada that bad stuff was happenin' and stuff, an' after a few minutes of tellin' em I wasn't goin' crazy, they agreed to come down here and help~!" He beamed up at them proudly like a three year old. "'Course it kinda helped that the Massive was hurtling to its doom.."

Across from them, they noticed Black's grin falter for a moment, and her eyes immediately flicked skyward. Following Argo's statement, ships of assorted sizes and shapes descended from above to land on the hardpan next to the Massive, far enough away that they wouldn't squish our heroes, though a chunk of Black's zombie army wasn't that lucky.. they recovered shortly after regardless, though.

All in all, the fight seemed more fair, not counting the fact that the other party couldn't really die..

"Alright," Red stated simply, charging the large gun he'd stolen off Gaz hours earlier. The entire crew was fitted with the rest of her weaponry, nevermind whether or not they could actually use it. "We've still got the first shot. So you know what that means? You better stay the fuck still." He aimed, lining up the sights with the fake Tallest's head, and surprisingly enough she seemed to obey the statement.. so he fired.

The shot hit.

It did not, however, hit Black.

Blood seeped from a large hole punched into Purple's stomach, bits of broken glass tinkling to the ground where the round had shattered it. They could almost see the poor bastard's spine through that hole, and he looked quite a bit more dead because of it. Black smirked and lowered her bloody meat shield, chuckling a bit at the shock that had appeared on his co-Tallest's face.

"Our turn."

Strangely enough, none of the zombies moved after she'd said that. Red was still stuck on what he'd just done.. did he just.. _kill _Purple? The gun dropped from his hands, and beside him he vaguely felt someone else move more than saw them, the big-headed kid with the glasses. Alright, so the boy was going to move out of turn, that was fine - he wouldn't be the one cleaning up his remains. But wait.. he didn't remember Gaz giving the kid a _knife_..

Seconds too late he moved to knock it out of the kid's hands, just in time to see him stab it into his sister's back. Gaz jerked forward and cried out, then slumped to her knees on the ground, feeling blood ooze down her back and from her lips as the blade had probably punctured something inside her. The rest of the group fixed their attention on her, and the human grinning an unnatural, too-wide grin behind her.

"What the hell?" Zim cried out, staring at Dib like his head was on fire. Stabbing people, he could understand. But his own _sister_?

The boy laughed, and immediately the Irken realized that wasn't Dib at all - he'd never laughed so insanely before in his life, and it sounded rather familiar..

"I've always wanted to do that~!" He crowed, and his voice was just as un-Diblike as the laugh, and also horribly familiar.

They watched, stupefied, as the boy walked past his victim, marching straight up to Black, whose expression of curiosity changed to a sort of maternal pride. His body grew and twisted until in his place stood Xix, with both eyes intact, who turned to stand beside his "mother", smirking down at Gaz as he drew his tongue slowly along the blood splattered upon the knife in almost sexual manner.

"Your turn," He purred.

No one moved for the longest time.. then Zim growled and scooped up GIR, setting the robot on his shoulders so he could shoot the enemy while his master was running, before suddenly charging at them with a sharp cry, shooting wildly at anyone except poor Purple. The robot atop his shoulders just sat there for a minute, then realized what he was supposed to be doing, and took down a few zombies himself, as behind them both the rest of the crew sans Red and Gaz snapped out of it to help bum-rush the enemy. The zombies surged forward, as did Xix; Black hung back for the moment and just watched the carnage.

Black and red blood splattered the ground, and the desert air roared with the sound of gunfire and the snarling of zombies and Irkens alike. Bodies fell left and right, and though the zombies got up again after they were felled, a soldier figured out destroying the PAK kept them down and others soon followed his lead. Some of the pilots had gotten back into their ships to gun the zombie army down from above, and the zombies retaliated by throwing some of their numbers into the air to rip open the ships' cockpits and tear apart the pilots involved, and the resulting crash back to the ground killed the zombies half the time. It was a massacre of epic proportions.

Red just stood there and watched them helplessly.. behind the mass of zombie Irken and living Irken and everything in between he could still see Black, and she was moving back a ways with Purple still in her grip for some strange reason. Their eyes met, and she grinned widely at him, almost taunting him. He wanted to kill her.. no, _needed _to kill her.. but.. she still had Purple.. what if he shot him again..?

A motion beneath his sight line caught his eye, and he glanced down at the wounded human. She had picked up the gun he'd dropped, and was currently trying to get up despite the wound in her back and her still-hurt leg, the latter of which caused her to keep falling back down to her knees every time she almost made it. It was kind of pathetic, and despite himself he moved to help her - somewhat trying to repent for allowing her to be stabbed, or something.

"Don't touch me," She snapped, jerking away from his claws. "I'm _fine_."

His antennae flattened a bit at that. "You're in no condition to fight."

Gaz growled and used the gun as a sort of cane, leaning on it to keep from falling again. "That's the second time that bastard's gotten me, and I'm _going _to kill him, whether I'm bleeding to death or not. You barely have a scratch on you, why aren't YOU fighting? Too scared?"

"I'm not scared," Red snorted defensively, but it was pretty obvious that he was lying. Not scared for himself, no.. just scared for Purple. "I just.. I think I might've killed him.."

"Then stop standing around and whining about it like a big alien baby and go kill her. Avenge him and all that shit. It's not rocket science." She grunted, starting to hobble toward the chaos in front of them. He didn't bother stopping her this time, just stood and watched and wondered how she moved into the crowd without getting hit by anything. "Stupid wimpy aliens.."

For a long while he just stood there and watched, then he sighed, gathering up a few weapons that had been thrown out of the crowd. If a wounded human, a child at that, could suck it up and fight, then he damn well could. He waited for a opening in the mass of bloody bodies, then promptly cried out and charged into them, shooting and stabbing zombies alike. His eyes found Black again; she was wandering away toward some type of cliff, dragging Purple along behind her - this time she couldn't see him, but he locked onto her, struggling to cut through the crowd to reach her.

Ahead of him Zim had already begun to follow her, having left GIR behind. His height had prevented a lot of the zombies from taking notice of him, so any wounds he'd incurred were from accidental swipes and missed shots by his own "team". Like his leader, he was locked on to the bitch; unlike him, he was almost close enough to touch her as she dragged poor Purple to the shadow of the cliff, where she visibly relaxed.

Her guard had dropped - this was his chance to make his move. He darted forward, as fast and as silent as a small Irken ninja, plucking a rather long knife from the ground on the run and aiming it in front of him as he leapt up, already vividly imagining the feeling of the blade wedging into her psychotic alien skull.. maybe the Tallests would make him a true Invader if he took her down.. or at least award him some kind of high honor, medals and parades and-

His dreams were short-lived thanks to a gauntlet slamming into his face and knocking him out of the air, where he landed painfully on his face a few feet away. He heard her sadistic chuckle.

Apparently she had been paying attention after all.

"If you're going to sneak up on someone, darling," She drawled, leaning back against the cliff as he peeled himself off the ground. "You shouldn't snicker triumphantly before you've even hit your target."

Zim growled and hunkered down, as if to try again. "Eh, well.. at least I'm actually, y'know, _fighting._ What's wrong, afraid you're gonna break a nail?"

"Hardly."

"Then come 'n get me! Face me like a man.. woman.. thing!" He puffed out his chest and made a "bring it on" gesture, trying to look as intimidating as one can being at least three or four feet shorter than the enemy. Through the corner of his eye, he saw GIR hop out of the battle to do the same, only to be dragged back in to be used as a little metal weapon.

Black sneered and set her battered prize down, then advanced towards him. She got to the edge of the shadow, hesitated, then hovered a few more inches out, visibly flinching as the desert sun hit her pale skin, as though it hurt her. It didn't stop her from advancing further, though at a slower pace, but it was an obvious sign of weakness. There just had to be some way to exploit it past trying to tie her to the ground until she melted.

When she got close enough to attack, he jumped back, laughing. "Ha! Foolish darkness creature! I know your weakness! Now you are no match for the almighty ZIM!"

"Is that so?" She snarled, attempting to grab him by the neck and was once again thwarted by his spritely, uninhibited-by-sunlight movements.

Her mind was clouded with pain, her body was screaming for the cool shadows, and she could smell her army weakening as well, though at a decreased rate thanks to their Irken genes. A low growl escaped her throat as her already thin patience was torn in two by this development and the annoying, sneering creature before her. This form was too much effort in these harsh conditions, and as she finally laid a claw on the little bastard, she allowed herself to lose focus.

The armies momentarily stopped fighting to watch as her body twisted, pulled, grew, features growing dark and less tangible. Her armor fell to the hardpan with a clang as her body slipped out of it, and she finally stopped when she became a large, hideous creature made of blackness with a pair of white globs in the place of her eyes, like a large living shadow in a vaguely dragon-like shape. It screeched and pinned Zim to the ground with a "hand", proving that it wasn't as intangible as it looked.

_See what you made me do! Little pest, ruining all of my hard work with a little annoying bravado! _Her voice screamed in his mind, and everyone else's as well. _I'll destroy you! And then your leaders, and your comrades, and this whole damn planet - hell, your entire EMPIRE! I'LL ERADICATE YOUR SPECIES FROM EXISTENCE!_

The little Invader squirmed, panicked, as the beast's snout swooped in to devour him, or at least bite his head off. Its jaws never made it to his tender flesh, as a blaze of light from a laser cannon seared through its neck. It shrieked and reeled back, unintentionally letting him go. He scrambled away to hide behind his Tallest, who, of course, had been the one to make the shot. Red's eyes flicked towards him for half a second before locking onto the creature again, apparently not in the mood to insult him for his cowardice.

Black fibers started to slowly fill in the hole made in its flank, only to be torn apart again as he shot it again. The living army realized they should probably be doing the same thing; the zombies stopped idling and slipped around in front of their monstrous creator, who screeched again and charged forward to take the Irkens out before they could take it out, rendering its "shield" practically useless by running them down as well.

Laser rounds tore through the air like fiery, screaming needles, puncturing its hide and making it even more incensed. It surged forward and snapped up the nearest soldier in its jaws, tearing his body to pieces and scattering them over the approaching army before slamming a massive forelimb into his comrades, scattering them as well. Its movements were getting slower, though, allowing them enough time to recover and continue pummeling it with lasers.

It snarled and aimed a wide slash for Tallest Red, but lost the arm to his laser cannon before it ever hit him. The limb lay twitching for a moment next to its intended target, then dissolved before its owner could retrieve it. It would never have attempted to retrieve it at all were it not for the fact that the sunlight seemed to be causing its body to heal more and more slowly, and in the arm's place was a very gradually growing nub, making it difficult to keep swatting at the army assaulting it.

Which didn't, however, keep it from whirling around on its remaining limbs and knocking them down with a lash of its tail, effectively stunning them.

Red was the first to recover - only to feel the sharp pain of thousands of blade-like fangs burrowing deep into his flesh as the beast hoisted him up, sans laser cannon, into the air. He stifled the resulting cry of agony and squirmed against it, trying to get into a good position to push its snout open and get free. The powerful jaws clamped tighter around him, then suddenly snapped back, tossing him up into the air.

If it was expecting to catch him in its gullet, it was sadly mistaken - the flight allowed him enough time to withdraw his Tallest-issue spider legs, which kept its jaws wide open once it made the mistake of catching him again. This motivated it to clamp down as hard as its muscles would, pushing several tons of pressure on the spindly little things, while they pushed right back, splattering their owner in black blood as the tips pressed into somewhat vulnerable flesh.

The metal limbs weren't built for that kind of stress.. the moment he attempted to push out of its mouth, they buckled and splintered, and its jaws slapped closed around him like a living bear trap. He slid backwards towards its throat as its head tilted, and no matter how hard he tried to claw his way out, he kept sliding back..

.. until a bright flash of light blinded him, and he found himself lying on the ground covered in black blood and saliva, his to-be predator shrieking its lungs out. Something warm and wet twitched underneath him, and he realized he was sitting on the beast's lower jaw. He heard a sadistic chuckle, and a pair of much smaller hands tugged him away from the slab of meat just as the owner of it slammed its head on top of it to forcibly reattach it.

"We can't have TWO dead Tallests," Zim explained, still grinning maniacally. Not only had he saved his bacon, he'd done it with his own laser cannon. "Permission to keep shooting Voot Runner-sized holes into Her Imperial Viciousness?"

Red got to his feet and brushed himself off, picking up someone else's fallen weapon with a resigned sigh. "Fine, Zim, but you better not break it."

Rather than reassure him of its safety, the little Invader just gave his trademark evil laugh and went back to pummeling the beast with lasers, and moments later the rest of the army and their Tallest joined him. Apparently losing its jaw for a few seconds took some of the fight out of their target, as it began to retreat, hunkering down low so that most of their fire would end up hitting the cliff behind it - the very same cliff it started out cowering beneath in Irken form.

They drove it back to the shadow of the cliff, which seemed to be a disadvantage for them... until its solid core slammed into the weakened-by-gunshots rock wall, cracking it, toppling creature and cliff away from the army, sending a thick cloud of dust billowing into the air, blocking everything from sight - including the battered body of Purple still lying at the base, which Red noticed only just seconds before it was eclipsed by debris.

He couldn't tell if the other had been crushed by their quarry, and hoped like hell it had missed him. All the same, he rushed over to the site ahead of the others, and found him just as mangled and broken as before, but nothing was crushing him to death. A large rock had fallen on his left arm, rather close to his head, but it obviously hadn't woken him up from his state of unconsciousness.. at least Red hoped it was unconsciousness. He hadn't the heart to check for a pulse.

After helping a few men push the rock off him and sending him back to the Massive to be placed in one of the healing pods, assuming any were still intact, to be fair, he had to check for their enemy, and the dust had cleared enough to reveal a small black blob quivering in the midst of the rubble, which he assumed was Black.

He had half a mind to kill it as it harmlessly jiggled, if it wasn't dead already.

"Is.. that her?" Zim's voice asked incredulously; he hadn't heard him approach.

Red scoffed. "Pretty much. Ugly little thing."

He pressed the muzzle of a smaller laser gun to its jiggling, visible core, but as his finger moved to press the trigger, a pang of guilt flooded him. He had no idea where it came from - shouldn't he be happy he'd reduced the beast to this and was about to destroy it, once and for all? - but it caused him to pull the gun away and sigh in resignation. Maybe he could humiliate her with a lifetime of imprisonment, then.. at least long enough to send her ass to Crematoria, guilt or no guilt.

The little Invader frowned at his decision not to kill it, then started amusing himself by poking it. It was like poking a very thin beanie baby.

"Stop playing with it and take it back to the Massive." His Tallest grunted. "I'm gonna see if there's any more casualties we don't know about, and the extent of the damage to my ship."

He ignored Zim's disgusted groan and turned away before he could see his attempts at picking it up - which would have been hilarious in any other situation thanks to germaphobia - getting up and heading back towards the Massive. What was left of the zombie army was standing complacently in a row, and they simply watched him as he walked past, making no move to attack. They were probably waiting for Black's orders, he figured. One with the word STUPID written on its forehead in big black letters nearly ran into him on its way out of the ship, clutching a bag of snacks.

"Game over." It remarked in monotone, before joining the line of other zombies.

Red stared at it for a moment, then shook his head and surveyed the area around the ship. As far as he could tell, medics had already started tending to the wounded, and the only bodies he could see were ones he'd seen fall during the fight, including most if not all of Lard Nar's crew. The Vortian was standing solemnly by their corpses, and Argo waved lamely at him as a medic was bandaging up his head. He couldn't see the little human girl anywhere, dead or alive, and assumed they'd taken her to the healing pods with Purple.

Nearby at least ten of the surviving soldiers were struggling to restrain a rather infuriated Xix. It was almost like watching them cage an animal, complete with chains, but with the inclusion of low-level laser rounds shot into him every time he attempted to slip into the shadows. He made a mental note to send the bastard to the nearest asylum once they got him on board; perhaps if they took some of the insanity out of him, he could be the one of the best soldiers the Irken military would have to offer. And if nothing works, well, he'd join his "mother" in a fiery death on Crematoria.

Then he headed into the ship. He was greeted by the smell of death, and nearly lost an antennae to a hanging, sparking light. There were still sounds from within, though. Hopefully they were either survivors or the medics, as he really didn't want to see any more zombies running about, leaderless or not.

Heading down one of the hallways, his foot hit something wet and meaty, and he toppled to the floor with a grunt. Annoyed, he turned to see who - or what - had tripped him up, and realized it was Crim, lying broadside only half a foot from a way out, mangled and broken not unlike Purple. However, unlike with Purple, Red decided to check for a pulse, and was surprised to find that he was still alive, though barely. Apparently he had been trying to join the fight despite the hole in his head, but had passed out from blood loss and immense pain before he could make it to the battlefield.

"Poor old bastard," He sighed, and hefted him up in his arms before continuing on his trek through the Massive, ultimately headed for the healing pods. Hopefully this was the last one that had to be put in one, as he wasn't sure how many they had left to start with.

For a while he didn't find anything but bits of corpses and blood splatters, no sign of any other survivors, and definitely no sign of the little male human that had come with Zim. Maybe the demented psychopath masquerading as him had eaten him before transforming, or fed him to the other zombies, or fed him to Black herself.. the possibilities were endless, and none of them very good for the human. Hopefully Zim wasn't that attached to him.. though the girl might be upset..

A low, pained groan from a nearby room interrupted his train of thought. He turned his attention toward it and waited, and soon enough it sounded again, weaker this time. Slowly he made his way into the room, which was dark of course, and after shifting Crim's battered body to the crook of one arm - as well as he could, the old man's legs were headed for the floor - he hesitantly flipped the light switch, illuminating what looked to be an abandoned medical station, maybe a dentist's office. He'd never seen this room before in his life, and not only because he hardly explored the Massive's innards.

And there, lying on the chair with his torso flayed open and held that way, organs hanging out for all to see, was poor little Dib.

Blood was trickling from his mouth, and dribbling down the chair from his flayed torso. Blood was splattered all over the chair, the boy's body, and the equipment around him. There were deep clawmarks in the side of his face, but that was obviously the least of his worries.

He looked rather dead.

But what was worse, not only was he alive, he was staring wide-eyed at Red as he approached, fully conscious despite what had to be tremendous amounts of agony, tears dribbling down his cheeks like the blood from his lips.

Humans were a hardier race than he'd thought.

Another soft groan emitted from his throat, causing more blood to dribble out. The Tallest cringed, setting Crim down on the nearest flat surface to gingerly unfasten his restraints, including what was holding the flaps of chest-skin open. He couldn't sew him up, but he attempted to press them close together as he picked the boy up, setting him on top of his head advisor, then he picked _him _up, carefully balancing Dib on top of him as he made his way back into the hallway.

He'd seen his share of broken bodies, mangled corpses, and traumatized young soldiers in his time. He thought he was used to it. But today, he just felt like crawling into a corner and bawling like a newborn smeet. Between his co-leader, his ship, even his Empire.. it was simply too much.

The Almighty Tallest Red was just as broken as the bodies he was carrying to the healing pods, and eyes used to staring down death and glancing over destruction finally started to water.

"Don't die," He whispered to both of them, and only got a pathetic whimper in response.

* * *

Just a few more chapters left.

Better re-read the beginning of the story if you want some laughs, because after the "end", it's just going to get worse.


	23. Recovery

Chapter 23: Recovery

* * *

It was a week later.

The Massive was fully repaired and back in space, Red had re-obtained his robes and rightful place as Tallest, soldiers were being sent across the Universe to reclaim Black's conquered planets for the Irken Empire, and any remaining zombies on those planets were being rounded up.

Black was contained in a well-illuminated holding cell, once again in Irken form, as the Massive was personally escorting her to Judgmentia; her "son" had been sent off in a military ship to the nearest asylum, also in a well-illuminated holding cell, though with more shackles and restraints than you could shake a stick at. Both were being closely monitored and reported on every time they twitched. The zombies were contained in one of the empty snack pods until further notice - all except Stupid, who somehow had been allowed to wander around, mostly harmless.

Things finally seemed to be going back to normal.

Except for those that had been wounded severely enough to be placed in the healing pods. As she seemed to have the least amount of damage, Gaz had gotten out first, and now lurked by Dib's pod almost constantly. She never looked at him, just stayed close by and played her game, with which she threatened any unlucky Irken that tried to move her for whatever reason. They'd eventually given up on trying, figuring she'd move when Dib got out.. whenever that would be.

Next to Dib's pod was Crim's, then Purple's, at which Red constantly lurked, watching over him, and hardly giving anyone who came to report more than a brief glance and a grunt in their direction, the only way the smaller Irkens knew he wasn't dead or sleeping on his feet. He would likely stay there forever if it took that long, and likely in that exact same position, too.

When the technicians left, to return to their normal duties or finishing any repairs they might have missed, both Tallest and human stayed at their respective pods in dead silence.

"You know, that thing would probably work better if the batteries weren't dead."

Red's voice broke through that silence, tone casual. His eyes never left his co-Tallest's broken form.

Gaz shrugged and continued to aimlessly mash buttons and stare into the darkness of the screen, like she had been for the last few hours. "Probably."

The next few hours after that passed slowly and quickly at the same time, with both alien and human staying right where they were. It was just like the waiting room of a hospital, cold and silent, but with nothing to entertain oneself besides the pods. The girl seemed to give up trying to pretend to play her game and started pod-watching like the man beside her, finding it somewhat interesting that what looked to be a bunch of glowing goop was slowly sealing up her brother's wounds and repairing everything inside of him.

She couldn't see it, but she had a feeling Red had started to watch her as well as the pod in front of him, back and forth, and she started to do the same thing. This time it was her that broke the silence, purely out of boredom and some strange obligation to strike up conversation.

"So, uh. You think he's gonna make it?"

A long pause as the other deliberated on which "he" she meant; a glance in her direction told him that strangely enough she meant the taller of the two broken things.

"Hopefully."

"What are you guys going to do if he doesn't?"

Another pause.

Red stiffened slightly, his eyes remaining on Purple this time, and Gaz got the feeling that was probably territory she shouldn't be straying into. However, she wasn't sure if he would take an apology any better than the question itself - it seemed out of place to say to an alien, after all - so she kept her mouth shut, for the most part.

"We'll give him the traditional funeral for a fallen leader, cremate him or put his body alongside other Tallests of the past for future generations to see, and then life will carry on with myself as the sole leader of the Irken Empire." His antennae flattened just a bit, his expression otherwise unchanged. "One of the Control Brains' greatest mistakes would be finally cleared up. Besides Zim, of course."

"Mistake?"

"There has never been two Irkens that have reached Tallest height at the same time until the both of us. It has always been just one, and as each one dies, another grows, sometimes gradually, sometimes abruptly, so that the Empire never goes without a leader for any longer than it needs to. We were a fluke. A genetic mistake. If it had just been one or the other, this never would have happened. If he'd just stopped growing when we were younger.. he would be my high advisor, and Black wouldn't have attacked him directly.. or even better, he wouldn't have been on the Massive at all.."

Gaz frowned. "Then you'd be the one in the goop, only no one would be watching over you, and he'd probably be lying dead somewhere thanks to her invasion.. thing."

Red fell silent, already feeling stupid for having said any of it.

"Now stop moping, I think they're almost done."

"I'm not moping," He replied sullenly, then decided to change the subject. ".. what about yours?"

Gaz grunted. "If he dies, I'm gonna kill him."

The Tallest blinked and stared at her for a moment or two. Upon seeing that she looked totally serious.. he laughed. It was weak and somewhat pathetic, but still genuine laughter, and after a moment it seemed to infect her, at least in the way of a few snorts and a snerk. It felt horribly inappropriate, but at least it eased the tension.

* * *

"My Tallest, wake up."

Laughing like a loon was the last thing he remembered - after that it was blackness. And now someone was shaking him and telling him to wake up.. he must have fallen asleep standing up. Or fainted. Either one led to feeling the cold glass of the pod against his face and the sound of each pod being turned off..

A sharp bolt of panic sent him reeling away from his impromptu napping place. They couldn't turn them off yet! Purple was still in there!

Of course it took him long enough to slam a gauntlet into the face of the nearest technician attempting to turn the pod off to realize that the pods were empty.

He calmed down and sighed, then frowned as he wondered just when Purple left the pod and how he did that without disturbing him. Maybe he'd fallen to the floor, and his rejuvenated co-leader had picked him up and leaned him on the thing so he'd think he'd slipped through both glass and flesh like a ghost, or something. His eyes roamed around the room, and found that the only other people in here were technicians - no sign of the little human girl or Purple.

"Hrm.. status report," Red muttered at the nearest smaller, rubbing wearily at his eyes.

The technician glanced up to answer, then realized his Tallest had already started to hover away, and so had to follow him to the bridge at a half-jog. "Tallest Purple has gathered all soldiers involved in the struggle against Black on the bridge to award them for their bravery, I believe."

"And the humans? Are they amongst them?"

"Yes, sir.. but there's something else you need to know-"

He wasn't allowed to finish, as they'd already made it to the bridge. True to his word, there stood the remaining soldiers, Zim, Skoodge, Argo - he was pretty sure this one was just there to make him feel like he accomplished something - and the humans; Crim was standing loyally at Purple's side, possibly to help award them. At the end of the line was Stupid, which soon meandered away when his co-Tallest realized it was there and shooed it. There was no sign of Lard Nar - he'd probably taken off during the week to mourn, regroup and plot to destroy the Empire himself.

Purple was in the midst of awarding the last soldier before Zim, but stopped to smirk at Red. "You know I could hear your snoring through the healing gel, right?"

"I don't snore," Red huffed, hovering over the rest of the way, followed closely by the technician who looked reaaaally antsy about something if anyone cared to look at him.

Noticing it was his turn and both leaders seemed to be distracted, Zim started bouncing up and down like a psychotic little dog, waving his arms around almost frantically enough to smack his human companions in the face. "My Tallests! Hey! Award Zim! AWARD ZIM!"

"Hold your taters," Purple snorted, then glanced nervously at Red before clearing his throat and attempting to regain the "official" tone in his voice. He was trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "Zim, for your bravery and loyalty through the Empire's darkest days, you-"

"You're going to make me a proper Invader now, right? With lots of weapons and things for annihilating the humans, yes?"

A mischievous smirk spread on his lips. "No, Zim. Your prize is even better."

The little Invader's eyes grew wide, and he got even more excited. "What? What is it? Give me my better prize! Give to Zim!"

In retrospect, he shouldn't have been so eager to tell the Tallest to "give it to him".

Because his prize, what he was getting in return for all his hard work throughout this conflict and helping Tallest Purple while he was on Earth..

.. was a nice, cold, spray of water to the face.

"Payback."

The whole crew sat and watched him run around and shriek like a dying monkey for the next few minutes with the same sick satisfaction as their Tallest, though of course his was much stronger. Then they went back to awarding: Skoodge declined the offer to become a soldier or Invader again - he liked being a janitor too much; Gaz became an Elite soldier and commander of her own fleet, much to the other Irkens' surprise (Red was the one to award this honor, and though she accepted it in her usual noncommittal way, he could see she was only too pleased); Dib was given his glasses back - cleaned and repaired - and a thickly rolled up piece of paper he was told to never let Zim see under pain of death; and Argo, smiling like a three year old.. got a pat on the head and a strawberry lollipop for his troubles. It seemed to be enough for him, anyway.

All this time, the antsy technician was getting antsier by the second, and just as he moved to finally spill the beans, an alarm started shrieking just as loudly as Zim had been, stopping everyone in their tracks. The technician groaned and covered his face in his hands as everyone else just wondered what the hell it was shrieking for.

Red whirled around and pulled his stalker up by the collar. "What _exactly_ did you need to tell me?" He growled.

"Th-the prisoners... they... she... she's not there anymore, sir.. neither is her army..."

"What?" The technician fell from his grip with a hard thud, and scrambled away before he could catch him again. "Check the holding cell, on the double!"

Whoever he was screaming at didn't need to move, for a group of guards rushed onto the bridge, presumably from doing just that. The smallest of them was pushed forward to be the next bearer of bad news, though Red was pretty sure the boy's tune would be the same.

"The holding cell is slap empty, sir, but her restraints haven't been picked open or anything. She's just not.. there anymore, sir."

"Something WAS left in her chair, though," Another guard piped up. "A message. In blood."

Red's antennae twitched back, and without a word he moved to go see said message. He was stopped, however, by a light blinking in another technician's station - the incoming call button. A low growl from one Tallest and an encouraging whine from the other motivated the owner of the station to press it. The massive vid screen lowered and flickered to life. On it, there was a very panicked looking Irken, and behind him, all sorts of chaos. Blood was splattered all over the floors and walls and leading out of the room in a clear trail, and all of it purely Irken.

He realized with horror that this was one of the men assigned to attempt to treat Black's homicidal creation, and before the poor man even said it, he knew exactly why there was blood all over the place and he looked so very terrified.

"I.. I'm sorry to say this, sirs, but.. he's escaped. We don't exactly know when, but when my colleagues and I arrived this morning, th-there was blood all over the asylum.. we don't know how many bodies there are yet.. right now it looks like he took out the rest of the inmates on his way out.."

"Damn it!"

Red turned away from the screen to hover towards the hallway, going to see if Black's lovely little message in blood would leave them any clue to where they'd all gone. As he left he heard another voice speaking to the frazzled psychologist, a sickened female one: "Sir, you should see the children's wing.."

The holding cell was indeed empty, as well as the snack pods that had formerly held her soldiers. Both places were still brightly lit, oddly enough - apparently the artificial light wasn't as weakening as sunlight, or they were in a lot of pain when they managed to get out. And, as the boy had said, Black's restraints had not been disturbed beyond losing the creature they had been keeping bound. He hovered closer to it, and found that there was indeed blood.

Black, not red.

She'd written it in her own fluids.

_It's not over yet._


End file.
